


double bind, doubly bound

by ashamedbliss



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Modern Royalty, Mutual Pining, Omega Verse, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashamedbliss/pseuds/ashamedbliss
Summary: Arthur is the Prince of Wales and the heir to the British throne. Merlin... well, Merlin is the son of a Welsh chef. Thrown together by luck, or perhaps fate, they both grow up in Buckingham Palace and become close friends, despite their differences.As an Alpha, royal duty calls for Prince Arthur to marry well and produce an heir with an Omega, once he has finished university and his military service. Merlin is left heartbroken at the thought, with a huge secret of his own - one that could see him forbidden from being with Arthur ever again.Set over nearly thirty years, this is the tale of Merlin Emrys and HRH Prince Arthur Pendragon, bound together by destiny, love, and just a little bit of magic.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 211





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this on and off since 2014, and it has truly grown into an epic love story. I am so excited to be sharing it with you, finally. This Arthur and Merlin have been a real light in the darkness of the last few months.
> 
> Thank you to Anita, who has been there for me for well over 6 years (but not quite 30), and to whom I really owe so, so much. This is for you <3
> 
> This will be Explicit in the future; rest assured all characters will be well above the age of consent by then. While no Archive warnings apply, later on traditional Omegaverse warnings of dubcon etc. will do. I will add warnings to specific chapters where necessary.

> _HRH Prince Uther, Duke of Edinburgh and Her Majesty Queen Ygraine are pleased to announce the birth of a son, delivered at 6:54am on the 6th of December. Both Her Majesty and the boy are well._

The Queen had emerged with the babe in her arms a day later, stepping down the steps of a private London hospital to the awaiting horde of press and paparazzi. Her long blonde hair sits just over her shoulders, as it always has, and her husband stands at her side, smiling and waving for the cameras.

The Prince of Wales, with the barest tufts of blond hair on his head, sleeps through the whole thing.

*

The next day, the birth announcement on the easel outside Buckingham Palace is amended.

> _HRH Prince Uther, Duke of Edinburgh and Her Majesty Queen Ygraine are pleased to announce their son the Prince of Wales has been named Arthur Charles, of House Pendragon._

The Queen gives her Christmas message nearly three weeks later, her smile wider than it ever has been.

*

The Telegraph, 26th June:

> _EMRYS. On 24th June, in Caernarfon, to Hunith (née Davies) and Balinor, a son, Merlin, a brother for William._

*

The Prince of Wales is two years old when they examine him.

“Alpha,” the doctor declares, a smile on his weathered face as he emerges from the nursery. “Of course he is. I really wouldn’t expect anything different considering your family history, Your Highness.” He turns to Uther, handing the boy back to him. Arthur squirms in his arms, until he is put down on the floor to toddle around the room. The thick carpet does not help his unsure steps.

“Yes, well, I’m hardly surprised,” Uther sighs, watching his son run over to his mother, sitting on a plush red settee, cooing to the boy. “You know full well my marriage to Ygraine was one of convenience, to re-introduce the Alpha trait to the British monarchy,” he says in a hushed tone, watching his wife play with their son. “Although I must say, I have rather enjoyed it.”

The doctor smiles, ducking his head slightly. “You do seem quite smitten, if I may say so sir.”

“How many times, Gaius?” Uther smiles fondly. “Please, call me Uther behind closed doors.” He seems to remember Gaius’ earlier comment. “She’s quite lovely, isn’t she?” Uther asks with a wistful sigh, and Gaius personally thinks that ‘lovely’ is an understatement. Ygraine holds Arthur’s tiny hands within hers, her face alight as she sings a song with him softly. No wonder she’s universally adored by the British public. “How is your nephew, anyway?”

Gaius’ face lights up, unable to believe that the husband of the Queen, of all people, remembered to ask after his nephew. “Oh, Gwaine is wonderful. Now walking, like your little prince. A handful as always,” the doctor laughs. “A Beta, too. You can never be too sure, but he must be, given our lineage...”

“I understand,” Uther says in absolute sincerity. If the heir apparent had been anything but an Alpha, the public would’ve lost all faith in the attempt to reinstall ensured succession to the monarchy. “You must bring him over to play with Arthur some time. There aren’t many other toddlers of his age at court, I think he would certainly appreciate it.”

Uther watches Ygraine and Arthur play together with a proud smile on his face. The press had doubted Uther’s ability to be a father beyond simply siring the heir, when Ygraine’s pregnancy had been announced nearly three years ago. They had commented on Uther’s nearly pure Alpha lineage, and his ferocious leadership style that had coloured his years spent in the military.

Gaius, privileged to see the growth of the Pendragon family first-hand and up close, knows that all of those rumours had proved completely unfounded. Uther’s Alpha strength had manifested as adoration for his first-born son, the heir to the throne. Prince Arthur.

Gaius nods eventually, and as Uther extends his hand he grips it tightly. “Thank you, sir. It would be an honour.”

*

A week later, the Prince of Wales meets Gwaine Knight for the first time.

Gwaine fiddles with the tie his mother has put him in, feeling nervous even though he’s older and taller than the prince. Arthur totters through from another lavish room, holding his father’s hand, and Gwaine fights the urge to hide behind his mother’s dress. He’s spent the last twenty minutes staring at the painted ceilings; they don’t have painted ceilings in his house.

“Behave,” his mother hisses at him, before curtseying for the Prince Consort. “Your Highness,” she says with a nervous giggle, Gwaine eyeing Arthur as they stand a few feet away from each other in the middle of the palace nursery.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Knight,” Uther says, nudging Arthur forward with a gentle knee to his back. “Arthur has been chattering on about making a new friend all week.”

Arthur, in his tiny shirt and chinos, steps forward towards Gwaine. “I’m Arthur,” he says with a big smile, before turning to point to a corner of the room. “D’you want to play Lego?”

“Yeah!” Gwaine says, grinning, and they both run off giggling, leaving their parents in the middle of the large room.

“Ygraine and I are having tea in the White Drawing Room, if you’ll join us.” Uther gestures to the door, eyes softening when he sees the confusion on Mrs Knight’s face. “Oh, don’t worry about the boys. Arthur’s nanny will make sure they keep out of trouble. Arthur’s Alpha pushiness has begun to emerge and we’re making sure he’s kept in line,” he says with a smile, and Gwaine’s mother can hardly turn down tea with the Queen of England now, can she?

*

Merlin is four years old when his father skips his usual bedtime story.

“Merlin,” Balinor says, sweeping Merlin’s dark hair out of his eyes, wide and curious and peeping out from above a dragon themed duvet. “You know that _Dadi_ is a chef, yeah?”

“Yeah. You cook food for people,” Merlin answers, smiling proudly. “You made the cake for my birthday party and _everyone_ said that it was the best cake _in the world_.” Balinor’s heart warms at his son’s enthusiasm.

“Exactly. Well, _Dadi_ has a new job now. Daddy is going to be cooking food for the royal family. You know who they are, right?”

Merlin’s eyes light up in the darkness. “Yeah! There’s Queen Ygraine and she’s _so_ pretty, and there’s Prince Uther... why isn’t he a king?! And there’s Arthur and he was on the telly the other day and Mummy was showing me pictures.”

Balinor laughs quietly, tucking Merlin into his bed properly. “Good. I’m glad you know who they are, especially Arthur. Prince Uther - he’s not a king because he’s not of royal blood - he wants you to have some play dates with Prince Arthur, because you’re both roughly the same age. How does that sound?”

Merlin yawns, his body betraying him despite his excitement. “Super! Will we live in the palace?”

“In the servants’ quarters, yeah.” The Emrys family had been given a small two-bedroom apartment, to reflect Balinor’s status as the head chef of the royal household.

“In London?” Merlin squeaks. “Can I speak Welsh there?”

Smiling, Balinor strokes Merlin’s hair, smoothing it down. “Yes _, gyda mi a'ch mam_. We won’t want you to forget everything your _Nain_ taught you, do we? And Arthur is the Prince of Wales, maybe he’ll want to practice too.”

Merlin smacks his lips together and considers this for a second. “Are there knights and dragons and castles?”

Balinor laughs. “Only in your story books. Sleep now, Merlin. Sweet dreams.”

Balinor stands and hovers at the door to turn out the light, smiling at the happy expression on his son’s face.

*

Arthur fidgets as he sits between his mother and father, almost five years old. The summer heat makes his t-shirt stick to him, and he frowns. He wants to go out and play in the garden, but his mother is talking to him softly.

“Arthur, we’ve got something very special to tell you about today,” Ygraine says, stroking her son’s soft blond hair. “You’re going to have a baby brother or sister,” she says excitedly, but Arthur doesn’t mirror the grin that spreads across her face.

“Can I meet them?!” he asks, turning to his father who laughs and ruffles his hair.

“Not yet, son. They’re growing inside Mummy at the moment, until they’re big enough to come out and meet us.”

“Look, Arthur.”

Ygraine guides her son’s hands to her belly, only just starting to show in her expensive dress, and Arthur only frowns further. “That’s weird. Did you eat them?”

Ygraine blushes but Uther laughs. “In a couple of months, we can tell you if you’ll be having a baby sister or a baby brother. You can even help us choose the name! You mustn’t tell any of your friends though, not until we say it’s alright. It’s a big secret at the moment.”

Arthur thinks about it all as his parents gather him in for a cuddle, something he’s been getting less and less of as he’s grown older. He doesn’t really have any friends to tell, apart from Gwaine, and he hadn’t seen Gwaine that recently.

With a small huff, Arthur slides off the sofa, planning on cosying up to his nanny before asking for a few biscuits and attempting to forget the news.

*

Merlin’s final check up with his doctor takes place three days before the move to London.

“Well Mr Emrys, you should be proud to have raised such a healthy son,” the doctor says cheerfully, placing the stethoscope around his neck once more. “Nothing to be worried about in the slightest.”

“And his classification?” Balinor asks with anxiety in his voice. He helps Merlin down from the table and onto his lap, the boy without a care in the world and oblivious to his father’s concerned tone.

“Certainly not an Alpha, but that should’ve been apparent well before now, anyway. We’ll therefore have to assume Beta. I’m not legally allowed to do that test that tells Omegas from Betas until the boy turns sixteen and his first heat threatens, if he is indeed an Omega.”

“There haven’t been Omegas in my family for generations, and Hunith even had some Alphas as ancestors... surely he couldn’t be an Omega, could he?”

The doctor’s smile fades. “It’s impossible to tell. If an Alpha trait has died out somewhere along the line, it leaves the bloodline susceptible to random mutations in the DNA to create Omegas... it’s brand new research, I’m afraid, I really can’t offer any more explanation than that.”

Balinor closes his eyes for a second, thinking, before Merlin presses a small toy horse against his face and he laughs, eyes flying open. “Thank you, Doctor,” he says eventually, setting Merlin onto the floor. “I’ll let you know our new details in London so you can forward on our records.”

The men shake hands before Balinor ushers Merlin out of the building towards their car.

“ _Dadi_ , what’s an _omeeeega_?” Merlin asks, bright blue eyes looking up at his father. Balinor sighs, adjusting the boy’s dungarees as he helps him into the car.

“Nothing you’ll ever need to worry about,” he says with a smile, pressing a kiss against Merlin’s forehead.

*

Balinor decides to spend his first week in the capital showing Hunith and Merlin around. He’d worked in London many times throughout the years, the most prestigious restaurants vying to attract a chef as proficient as he is. With two weeks between the time they move into the surprisingly spacious servant’s quarters and between Balinor starting his job, they explore London until Merlin is tired and falling asleep on the Tube home every night.

“If only Will had agreed to be transferred,” Hunith says to Balinor quietly, their son sat on her lap in the crowded carriage. “He would’ve loved this.”

“He’s nearly thirteen now, if he wants to stay at the school then we can’t force him,” Balinor replies. Will had been enrolled in an English private school well before Merlin had been born, when Hunith and Balinor had been flitting between European cities so often that settling Will into a single school would’ve been otherwise impossible. Now, though, Merlin would soon join Prince Arthur in his lessons with the royal governess, at the absolute insistence of the Queen herself.

Hunith gently rouses Merlin as Green Park is announced on the tannoy. “Come on Merlin, let’s go home.”

Merlin giggles at the thought that Buckingham Palace is now his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me on this. I've got about 50k words written so far and would love to hear your theories / what you think might happen! I hope to update every week or two :)


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Prince Arthur meets Merlin for the first time.

Gwaine has been more absent as of late, his mother having enrolled him in a primary school closer to their home; they didn’t live at the palace unlike Merlin now did. Arthur had been excited to meet the boy, and now they all sit in one of the drawing rooms – the white one, the _best_ one – and his parents, Merlin’s parents, and the two of them dressed up smartly.

“How have you been settling in?” Ygraine asks as she puts her teacup back onto its saucer.

“Oh, very well ma’am, thank you, we’re certainly being looked after by the head of the household staff,” Hunith nods, blushing. Arthur nibbles on his bourbon biscuit, keeping a wary eye on the boy opposite him, who is looking around the room at all of the gold trimmings with wide eyes and an open mouth. Arthur thinks he looks a bit stupid, looking around like that. There was nothing interesting in the room, really.

“Please, Hunith, you must call me Ygraine when we’re here in the private rooms. I may be the Queen but I’m still human, after all.”

The adults all laugh, but Arthur doesn’t get the joke.

“I hope you find the secretary role to your suiting. It was the least I could do in return for your Merlin’s companionship with my Arthur,” Ygraine continues, her free hand resting slightly on her belly.

“That’s if they get along, after all,” Uther says, and the tension in the room eases further. “Arthur, show Merlin your nursery and your bedroom. Ask your nanny to put on a film if you want.”

Arthur slides off the sofa, smiling at Merlin before turning and heading towards the door, the sound of footsteps on the carpet the only indication that the other boy is following.

“This is my bedroom,” Arthur says eventually, after having led Merlin through a maze of lavishly furnished rooms. He turns around to find the other boy’s eyes are still wide as he looks at everything.

“Wow,” Merlin breathes, before he looks at Arthur. “This is bigger than the whole of our new home downstairs.”

Arthur blinks at the boy. His accent is a bit funny; his mother told him it was Welsh, and that he should learn some words one day. Arthur walks further into the room to where he has an elaborate train set arranged in the corner. “This is my favourite toy,” he says with a proud smile on his face. Merlin reaches towards one of the trains in the miniature station. “Don’t touch that one! That’s mine.”

Merlin sits on the floor, holding his hand to his chest as if Arthur had just burned it. He pouts and tries not to cry at the fact that his new friend just shouted at him. Arthur turns to look at him, taking in his expression, and the smile falls from his face.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur says, bowing his head a little. Merlin blinks away his tears. “Mummy says that I have to try my hardest not to be bossy, but it’s _really_ hard.”

“S’okay,” Merlin says, shrugging a little as he wipes the unshed tears from his eyes. “My _mami_ said you might be a bit mean, but you’re a prince, so it makes sense,” Merlin offers with a small smile, and Arthur laughs. The prince gives his train to Merlin, who takes it gingerly in his hands. “It’s nice just to have a friend, really. I don’t know anyone else here.”

Arthur frowns, sitting down on the carpet next to Merlin. “Me neither, really. Mummy and Daddy have lots of friends but I don’t have any friends really. But you’re my friend now, and I have Gwaine when he visits, you can meet him. It’s my birthday party next month, you’ll meet lots of people then,” he grins, and Merlin can’t help but mirror it.

*

Two weeks later, Arthur wakes up to loud voices outside his door.

He peeks through his curtains, but it’s still night-time. He creeps to his door, poking his head around it, before tiptoeing along the corridor into the lounge of the family’s wing of the palace, now full of people. His father is pacing and asking questions so quickly that Arthur can hardly keep up, and men in bright green coveralls surround his mother. He sees Gwaine’s uncle, the doctor with the friendly smile, but his face is stern now.

“Daddy?” Arthur asks, not liking how foreign his voice sounds. “What’s wrong?”

Uther turns abruptly, concern clear on his face as he picks Arthur up and hugs him tight. He thinks he’s too old nowadays for his father to pick him up, seeing as he’s nearly 5 now, but he buries his face in his shoulder anyway. “Mummy’s a bit ill. She’s going to go to hospital.”

Arthur peeks over his father’s shoulder to where his mother is being helped onto a stretcher. “Is the baby coming out?”

“No, son,” Uther says, turning them around so Arthur can’t see any more. He feels a hand stroking through his hair. “Mummy wants the baby to stay in. It has lots of growing to do still.”

“Are we going with Mummy to the hospital?” Arthur asks, feeling sadder than the time his favourite teddy bear had been lost on a trip to Australia; he’d had it nearly all his life.

“I will, but you’ll stay here with your nanny. Mummy will be home sooner than you think, don’t worry.”

Arthur watched the ambulance leave with its blue lights flashing. He’d come to loathe spending time with his nanny as of late.

*

> _Our breaking news today is that Queen Ygraine is expecting a second baby, Buckingham Palace has announced._
> 
> _The BBC had learned that the Queen was rushed to hospital late last night for undisclosed reasons, but the Palace has now confirmed that these were indeed pregnancy related, leading to the announcement being made earlier than the standard fourteen weeks for expecting royals._
> 
> _It is unknown as of yet if the baby will be a little brother or sister to Prince Arthur, who turns five tomorrow._
> 
> _Prince Uther was seen leaving and entering the hospital multiple times today, but declined to comment. A Palace spokeswoman said that Queen Ygraine is now in a stable condition and that the royal couple are looking forward to celebrating their son’s fifth birthday this weekend._
> 
> _More details will be brought to you shortly._

*

Merlin is dragged along by his mother on a busy Saturday morning, mere hours before the Prince’s fifth birthday party. His scarf is wrapped tightly around his neck and his cheeks are bright pink.

“I don’t know what to buy him _mami_ ,” Merlin whines. “He has everything he wants already.”

“Then you have to get him something that will mean a lot to him,” Hunith says, beckoning Merlin into yet another toy shop. He’s met the Prince three times now, yet Merlin hasn’t seen him at all in the last week, especially after he was told off for sneaking around the main part of the palace and not sticking to the servants’ quarters.

“He likes Lego a lot,” Merlin says eventually. His blue eyes brighten as he realises something. “ _Mami_! I know _exactly_ what to get him!” he shouts, tugging his mother towards the Lego display. He rummages through the playsets and mix-and-match until he creates the perfect present, Hunith happily nodding as Merlin thrusts the finished creation towards her.

“Perfect,” she says, and Merlin beams when she ruffles his hair. “The perfect present from my perfect son.”

*

Arthur pouts as his nanny helps dress him in his smartest clothes.

“I don’t want to wear a stupid tie,” he grumbles as his nanny finishes knotting it.

“Too bad, my little Prince,” she says. Her eyes crinkle when she smiles but Arthur only pouts harder. “Come along now, Arthur, it’s your party! You _have_ to look the smartest at your own party.”

“I don’t want to have a party,” he says, flouncing off to sit down dramatically on his bed. “I don’t want to be a Prince. And I _don’t_ want to wear a _stupid_ tie,” he shouts. The door to his bedroom opens, and his nanny ducks her head and backs away when Uther sweeps in.

“Come on, son, what’s the matter?” he asks, sitting down on the bed and putting his arm around Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur’s face is red, and he’s trying his hardest not to cry because he is a Prince, and it is not permitted.

“I don’t want to go to my party,” he mumbles to the floor.

“Your mother got better _especially_ so she could come to this party, Arthur. The least you can do is come and say hello to everyone. Even Gwaine and Merlin will be there.”

Arthur perks up a little at the sound of his friends’ names. “I forgot about them,” he mumbles, but this time it’s from embarrassment. “Do I have to wear the tie?”

Knowing his son has changed his mind, Uther smiles and laughs. “Yes. You’ll be King one day, after all. And when you’re King, you can decide if you wear a tie or not.”

Arthur smiles at the thought. His father takes his hand and leads him from his bedroom, downstairs towards the biggest ballroom in the palace. It’s filled with people, with tables of food pressed up against the walls. When Arthur and his father arrive, the entire room erupts in applause, and Arthur blushes.

People come over to bow or curtsy and say happy birthday, but the majority of them continue speaking to his father about the announcement of Ygraine’s pregnancy, instead of crouching down to speak to him. Eventually, he frees his hand from his father’s grip, and goes off in search of Merlin.

“Arthur!”

Arthur turns at the sound of his name, not prefaced by a title for once. He sees Merlin, holding a small, plainly wrapped present and wearing a shirt and woollen jumper, his mother Hunith stood behind him. “Happy birthday Arthur, I mean, Your Highness, Prince, um...”

Arthur laughs as Merlin blushes, smiling as the other boy thrusts the present towards him. Ygraine has appeared over his shoulder, hands resting lightly on her stomach, and Arthur looks up to her expectantly. “Can I open it?” he asks, and she nods.

“Just this one, seeing as it’s from a special friend. We’ll do the rest later.”

Arthur knows what the other presents will mostly be. Often they’re donations to charity in his name (which he doesn’t really mind, because he likes the idea of helping people out), or toys that he already has and ends up giving to children’s homes, or books he’s too young for about things he doesn’t understand. But as he looks at Merlin’s eager expression, he knows this present will be different.

He tears off the wrapping paper, letting it fall to the floor as he stares at the little box in his hands. It contains two tiny Lego figures; the first is blond, with a cheeky grin on his face and wearing some kind of red guard’s jacket; the other has black hair, a blush upon his cheeks and a plain t-shirt.

“Now, when we play Lego we can play with our own pieces!” Merlin says excitedly, and Arthur looks up at his embarrassed smile. “I mean, if we play Lego again, Your Highness.”

Ygraine coos at them both, putting a hand on both of their heads. “What do you say, Arthur?”

Arthur bites his lip. He hasn’t had a present this good in a long time. He wants to give Merlin a big hug, but he knows there are lots of people looking and he’s never given a friend a hug before; he might get it wrong. “ _Diolch_ ,” he says in thanks, smiling.

Merlin grins, and Arthur reckons he pronounced the Welsh well enough. Arthur looks around at the circle of people around them, not approaching the Queen and her son as part of royal protocol. In fact, he realises that Merlin broke that, by talking to Arthur before Arthur had spoken to him.

He found that he didn’t really mind that, though.

“Your Majesty,” Merlin says quietly, and Ygraine turns to him with a sweet smile; unbeknown to Merlin, he had tripped over the honorific a little in the cutest fashion. “May I stick around with Arthur this evening? If that’s okay?”

Ygraine smiles genuinely. “Of course you can, Merlin. Arthur has some relatives to speak to, but as long as you stay nice and quiet by his side, you’re welcome to stay together. Off you go, you two.”

Arthur reaches for Merlin’s hand, pulling him out of the loose circle as his mother starts talking to Hunith. “I didn’t know if there was a posh way of saying ‘stick around’,” Merlin whispers to him noisily as they navigate the sea of legs in front of them, all black suit trousers and long dresses.

“What do you mean? We’re not posh,” Arthur argues back. He doesn’t even know what the word means, really.

Merlin giggles loudly, the sound warming Arthur’s chest. “Not posh?! You’re going to be the King, Arthur! You’re the poshest person in Poshland.”

“Where’s Poshland?” Arthur asks, utterly confused.

“I made it up. Can we get some cake?” Merlin asks.

Noticing his son making a beeline for his three-tier birthday cake, Uther calls the room to his attention and holds Arthur up so he can cut it for all to see, another round of applause offered. With a plate of cake each, Merlin trails Arthur as he reluctantly seeks out aunts, uncles, and other foreign relatives to speak to each one in turn.

“Arthur,” one of the heavily accented voices says. “It’s been such a long time. Look how you’ve grown!” the lady says, a tall woman with thick blonde curls. “Who is your friend?”

“This is my friend Merlin,” Arthur beams, always remembering to be polite. “Merlin, this is Princess Benedikte of Denmark.”

Merlin bows, and as he rises he sees a boy of his age, if not younger, emerge from behind his mother’s legs. “Leon!” Arthur exclaims, and the small boy grins and stands up fully. A mess of blonde curls sit on his head, and his brown eyes are warm. “Merlin, this is Leon. The last time I saw him was a couple of years ago when he was a little baby.”

Merlin bows again, and Princess Benedikte scoops a squirming Prince Leon up in her arms. “Little Leon needs a nap, I’m afraid. It was nice to meet you, Merlin, and Arthur I am sure I will see you again before we leave on Wednesday.” She nods at them both before striding away, and Merlin turns to the happy smile on Arthur’s face.

“Benedikte is so lovely. And I missed Leon terribly. We can all play together next week!” Arthur suggests, and Merlin nods. They continue greeting people whose names Merlin soon forgets, but within half an hour Arthur is getting grumpy.

“Every single person apart from Benedikte has spoken to me about my mother and the baby. Some of them didn’t even wish me happy birthday!” Arthur pouts, and Merlin worries what will happen if the Prince begins to cry in the middle of the ballroom.

“I have a plan,” Merlin says, grabbing Arthur’s hand and tugging him across the ballroom to the table with the cake. The servant there smiles and gives them another two plates of it, before Merlin looks around, lifts up the tablecloth and ushers Arthur underneath.

“What are you doing?!” Arthur hisses, plate of cake in his hands, once they are inside.

“Trying to cheer you up,” Merlin says with a smile. He sits down and starts to happily tuck into his cake. “My _dadi_ baked this cake, you know. He even let me help a bit, but when I kept making a mess, he made me leave the kitchen.”

Arthur giggles quietly at that, both of them eating their cake in silence as the party continues outside of their little fort. “I kind of wish I wasn’t having a baby brother or sister,” Arthur says eventually, just loud enough for the boy pressed against his side to hear.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Merlin frowns.

“I know,” Arthur says with a sigh. “I just wish Mummy hadn’t been ill, so then she didn’t have to tell everyone this week. This is meant to be my party, but everyone is talking about someone that doesn’t even exist yet.”

“Don’t worry, Arthur, you’re still the oldest and biggest and _everyone_ still knows who you are. I’ll always like you more than I’ll like the baby,” Merlin offers with a smile. “Plus, the baby might be really nice. You’ll just have to wait and find out.”

“Yeah,” Arthur says with a smile. “I guess you’re right. Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin pushes his plate of half-eaten cake into Arthur’s hands. “Here, finish this. Then we should go back out so people don’t worry. One time I got lost in Tesco and my _mami_ got really worried.”

“What’s Tesco?” Arthur asks innocently, eyebrows knitting together.

Merlin stares at him for a moment before laughing loudly. “You are definitely the poshest person in Poshland.”


	3. Chapter 3

The last of the snowfall is melting when Arthur’s handwriting lesson with Merlin is interrupted.

“Father!” Arthur says, bouncing in his chair as he turns to the door. “I wrote a whole sentence, and I managed to do it all joined up too,” he grins. Uther musses his hair, nodding to Merlin who had scrambled out of his seat as the Prince Consort had arrived. Even though Uther and Ygraine had insisted on relaxed protocol behind closed doors, Merlin only ever let his guard down with Arthur.

“That’s lovely, Arthur. Do you both want to hear some good news?” he asks the two boys, the governess disappearing out of the room without even being asked. They both nod eagerly. “You’re going to have a baby sister,” he tells Arthur proudly, watching the smile creep across Arthur’s face. “She should be here by the end of June.”

Arthur wraps his arms around his father’s neck in an awkward hug, and Uther laughs. Merlin smiles at the sight. “That’s _lush_!” Arthur says, Uther easing the boy off his lap.

“Little Prince, ‘lush’ is not the word you should be using in that context,” the governess says as she reappears, adopting the nickname most of the household have taken to when it comes to Arthur. “I would say, ‘brilliant’, or ‘wonderful’ instead.”

Arthur ducks his head. “That’s wonderful,” he says dully, shooting a glance at Merlin, who had been using the word in the first place. Silly Welsh boys.

“Your Highness, I’m finished with the boys for the day if you’d like to take them,” the governess says. Uther thanks her and leads the boys from the room.

“Can we go play in the snow?” Arthur asks, jumping up and down at his father’s side. “Please? We’ll only be in the courtyard.”

Uther sighs, patting both of them on the backs. “Go on then. Wrap up warm.”

The boys go running off to Arthur’s bedroom, where Arthur quickly found all of his clothes required for the snow. Merlin paused, a worried look on his face. “I left my gloves in my room,” he says, looking at Arthur. “Will you come with me to get them?”

“Of course. I’ve never seen your room,” Arthur asks, allowing himself to be led through the palace down into the servants’ quarters. Abruptly, the lavish furnishings give way to corridors that are still well decorated and lit, but nothing in comparison to above stairs.

“Here it is,” Merlin says, opening a door to a small lounge. “This is my home. My parents sleep through there,” he says as he gestures, “but this is my room.”

The room isn’t even a quarter of the size of Arthur’s room. Merlin’s single bed is pushed against the wall, a cotton duvet covered in dragons on top of it. A wardrobe is squeezed in at the end, and Merlin quickly finds the gloves he needs. “Come on, let’s go,” he says to Arthur.

“This is your room?!” Arthur asks.

“Yes.”

“But it’s so little!”

Merlin looks uncomfortable. “Well, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not a prince. I don’t get a big room.”

“You should move upstairs, we have _lots_ of empty rooms. One time I tried to count them all but I lost count,” Arthur says quickly, Merlin staring blankly at him. “What?”

“Arthur,” Merlin says slowly. “You’re a prince. I’m not. That’s why I sleep down here, and you have your nice rooms upstairs. Come on now, let’s go play.”

Merlin all but pushes Arthur out of his family’s little home, ignoring his endless questions and promises to make Merlin move in upstairs. He only manages to make the prince shut up when he gets him in the back of the head with a snowball, and they both end up crying with laughter as Arthur puts snow down the back of Merlin’s coat.

Neither of them notices all four of their parents standing at the windows high above them, all pausing in their daily activities to smile down upon their sons playing together.

*

> _HRH Prince Uther, Duke of Edinburgh and Her Majesty Queen Ygraine are pleased to announce the birth of a daughter, delivered at 10:07pm on 26th June. Both Her Majesty and the girl are well._

“She’s tiny,” Arthur announces as he sees his sister for the first time. Ygraine smiles tiredly at him from the hospital bed, her blonde hair tied back behind her head. Arthur has never seen her hair like that before.

“She’s asleep,” Uther says as he hoists Arthur into his lap. “Keep your voice down.”

Arthur looks at the little pink alien inside the blanket, and the dark tufts of hair on her head. “She’s not blonde,” he says. “Are you sure it’s ours?”

“Quite positive,” his father says with a knowing smirk. “My parents have brown hair, actually. It’ll mean we don’t mix you up.”

Arthur opens his mouth to argue back but sees that his father is only teasing, so he shuts it again. “We’re going to name her Morgana,” Ygraine says.

“Does she have a middle name?” Arthur asks. “I have one.”

“You do indeed,” Uther says. “Do you have any middle names you would like to give her?”

“Rose,” Arthur says. “Like the ones in the garden.”

His parents exchange a glance. “That’s not a bad idea...” Ygraine says slowly.

Uther looks down at Arthur. “Come on, let’s leave Mummy to feed the baby and we’ll have a talk with our secretaries, see what they think.”

Arthur casts one last look at baby Morgana, the Princess Royal, before he’s pulled from the room.

*

Merlin is eight when he first learns about human biology.

Merlin watches the little television in the staff room near the kitchens, his father making his team hurry up with the main course for the night. The news is on, and the reporter is outside Buckingham Palace, talking about Princess Morgana’s first formal event after being classified as an Alpha at just three years old.

“ _As you can see from the pictures, the Princess Royal is happily striding around as she visits the nursery in North London with Queen Ygraine, while Arthur, the Prince of Wales, was with his father onboard HMS Belfast for its anniversary. Arthur is expected to go into the Army once he has finished his education and bonded with a mate_.”

Merlin’s nose turns up at those final words, until he realises he doesn’t quite know what they mean. He gets up from the sofa and pokes his head into the kitchens.

“Dad?” he calls. “What does bonding with a mate mean?”

The kitchen staff turn to look at him for a second, before quickly going back to their tasks. Balinor, in his chef whites and hat, approaches Merlin with a piping bag in his hands.

“Merlin,” Balinor sighs, before jerking his head. “Come help me decorate these cakes, and I’ll tell you about it later on.”

Merlin helps advise on the patterns for the cakes, but afterwards Balinor apologises, telling him he’ll stuck in the kitchen for another few hours. Merlin goes upstairs in search of his mother.

Hunith, within the last four years, has been promoted through the admin offices of the royal household to the point where she’s now the personal aide to the Lady in Waiting; essentially making her the right hand woman to the Queen’s right hand woman. She smiles up at Merlin from her work.

“I like your new office,” Merlin says in greeting, rarely making his way to this part of the palace.

“Thank you darling,” Hunith says, sitting back in her chair. “I should be here for a good few years now, I hope. Unless the current Lady in Waiting retires,” she laughs, because they both know it’s a job for life, before leaning forward towards Merlin. “What’s up, love?”

“What does bonding with a mate mean?”

The phone rings, and Hunith mouths a ‘sorry’ before she picks it up. “Hunith speaking,” she sings down the phone. “Right. Yep. I’ll be there right away.” The phone clatters as she puts it back in its cradle. “I’ve got to go, sweetie, there’s a planning meeting for the trip to Canada next month. Go ask your father,” she says, kissing him on the head as she leaves the office.

Disgruntled, Merlin sets off in search of the governess, even though he finished his lessons for the day hours ago. Arthur is the last person he expects to bump into.

“Arthur!” he says, hugging the other boy as they’ve learned to do over the last few years. “How’s your week been? I saw you on the telly a while ago,” he says excitedly.

“On HMS Belfast?” Arthur asks, Merlin nodding. “Yeah, it was alright. It smelled funny, though. I don’t think I’d be very good in the Navy, I’m glad Daddy wants me to go into the Army.”

“I don’t even know what I want to be when I grow up,” Merlin says wondrously. “Maybe a historian.”

Arthur laughs at Merlin, as he’s taken to doing recently. The governess once tried to explain why, but Merlin never really understood it. “A historian? But that’s _boring_.”

Merlin shrugs. “It’s what I’d like to do. I’d get to sit in a quiet room and read books all day. I love reading.”

“But don’t you want some kind of action? Life is an adventure!” Arthur says, leading them through the palace towards the royal apartments.

“Yeah, well you would say that, you’ve already seen half the world,” Merlin sighs. “Look, can we drop it? I was actually looking for Miss Johnson, I have a question for her.”

Arthur rolls his eyes in a very un-princely fashion. “You’re a nerd,” he says. “Are we watching a film tonight?”

Merlin looks down at his feet. “Mum says I have to work on my Geography project.”

“Pfft. France is boring anyway,” Arthur says, waving a hand dismissively over the project they both have to complete. “They _killed_ their kings, you know,” he says with a gasp.

Merlin doesn’t think France is all that bad; his family had holidayed there last year, and he is enjoying learning about the country as part of his project. In fact, he’s going to start learning the language when he’s older, he’s decided. He doesn’t say this to Arthur, because the governess appears, ready to give Arthur a late lesson after his royal outing.

“Miss!” Merlin calls, the governess startling and then smiling at the boy. “Miss, what does bonding with a mate mean?”

“ _That’s_ what you wanted to ask?” Arthur says to Merlin. “Mummy told me I wasn’t allowed to ask her about that until I was twelve.”

The governess looks between the pair of them, before sighing and sitting down heavily on a plush settee, one of many in the palace that aren’t as comfortable as their price tags would suggest. “Your mother said you weren’t allowed to ask her, but she very much expected you to ask me at some point, and if you hadn’t we would’ve started them in your basic biology lessons next year.”

She heaves another sigh, looking to the boys sat each side of her before she begins.

“All human beings are either Alpha, Beta or Omega. Betas are the most common, most people are Betas. They have no special abilities, they’re just there.”

“So they’re useless?” Arthur chips in. Merlin scowls at him.

“Not at _all_ , Little Prince,” the governess says. “I’m a Beta myself, and your mother is, Arthur, and your parents too, Merlin. Sometimes it’s good to be a Beta. If you’re an Alpha, you’re affected by Omegas, and if you’re an Omega you’re affected by Alphas. It can make everyday life quite difficult.

“Arthur, your father is an Alpha. Do you remember last year, and your visit to New Zealand?”

Arthur nods, biting his lip. “I remember getting rushed out of a crowd of people and they changed our schedule. Mummy says we were attacked,” he says quietly.

The governess touches his shoulder lightly in comfort. “Not quite, no. There was an Omega in heat in the crowd, and your father reacted to her scent, began to lurch towards her. It took three guards to get him out of there safely. Lucky that he’s bonded, or the situation could’ve been a lot worse,” the governess says, sounding quite relieved.

“What does bonding mean, then?” Merlin pipes up with his original question. “Does it mean being in love?”

“Yes and no,” the governess says. “You can be in love without being bonded, and Betas don’t normally bond. Alphas are normally the ones who initiate a bond...” Her face shifts slightly, grimacing. “Being bonded means you’re in love and you’ve, well… _made_ love. Do you know what that means?”

Arthur grins devilishly. “Merlin told me all about it a few months ago,” he says, and Merlin blushes.

“My parents told me how babies are made, because they wanted me to know after I forgot to knock on their bedroom door one time.” Merlin said, bright red.

“Heavens above,” the governess mutters to herself, closing her eyes for a long second before looking down at the two boys. “Right, well. So that explains that.”

“So what does it mean when they say that I’m an Alpha?” Arthur asks, tugging on her sleeve.

“It makes you a very powerful person, Arthur. Alphas are natural leaders, and very sure of themselves. They make the best kind of King we can ask for,” she says with a smile. “Alphas are attracted to Omegas, but they can fall in love quite happily with Betas, like your father fell in love with your mother. They can also get male Omegas pregnant.”

Arthur’s eyes bug out of his head. “I saw a pregnant man on the Tube once,” Merlin says quietly. “No one wanted to go near him.”

“Yes, well, sadly the reputation of male Omegas in this country isn’t as good as it should be. Male Omegas are quite rare in comparison to female Omegas, and they’re all rare in comparison to Betas.”

“What’s special about an Omega, then?” Merlin asks curiously.

“Omegas are especially fertile. You remember what fertile means, from our lessons on plants, correct?” Both of the boys nod. “This means they get pregnant easily, but only when they’re in heat. This happens every six months, and for a week they are absolutely ready to… well, they need to spend a week with an Alpha.” The governess looks like she wants to say more, but stops herself.

“Sounds like a nice holiday,” Merlin says. Arthur giggles. Their governess swallows tightly.

“I overheard father talking about _soul_ bonds once,” Arthur says. “What does that mean?”

The governess’ cheeks colour even more, if it’s possible. “Oh, my. Well. See, any Alpha and Omega can bond, and can bond with Betas and all, but _soul_ bonds… they’re really special. Really, really special,” she nearly whispers. The boys share a puzzled glance. “They’re very rare. It means that the Alpha and Omega – because it can only be between those two – were destined for each other, and can’t be with anyone else.”

“So, Mother and Father don’t have a soul bond?” Arthur asks. The governess nods. “But they’re so in love? It’s gross.”

“You can be in love without a soul bond, you could just have a normal bond,” she laughs, before sobering quickly. “In fact, it’s probably easier that way.” Merlin opens his mouth to ask a question but she continues. “I think that’s enough for now, I’ll teach you more as you get older and as your bodies change, Arthur you especially. Any questions that _aren’t_ about soul bonds?”

Merlin and Arthur glance at each other, their faces pale. They shake their heads and slide away, the governess excusing Arthur from that evening’s lessons. Merlin almost wants to talk about his findings with Arthur, but the prince asks once more if he wants to watch a film and Merlin finds himself unable to refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! As much as I enjoy the boys as just that, little boys, I really love them slightly more grown up! I'd love a comment to let me know how you're enjoying this so far!


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin is ten years old when he plays the piano for the first time.

He and Arthur have argued, which is hardly a rare occurrence. Once, they went two weeks without speaking for each other because Morgana had accidentally broken one of Arthur’s toys, and the prince had wrongly blamed it on Merlin.

This time, he’s walked halfway across the palace and he’s already forgotten why he’s angry, but the feeling still remains in his veins. He hasn’t visited this wing of the palace in a long time, not since he and Arthur once made it a mission of theirs to visit every single room in a day. He stops when he’s far enough away from the hubbub of the main palace, and his eyes fall on the grand piano in the corner of the room.

Merlin knows his notes from the disastrous recorder lessons he and Arthur had been given when they were seven. He finds the sheet music to Bach’s minuet in G minor, something he’s sure he’s heard at one of the lavish balls he often finds himself invited to, standing at the sides of the room and watching Arthur move through the crowd with a grace he must’ve inherited.

Sitting down on the stool and casting a final look around the room, he presses his finger to the middle C. Faintly, tiny letters on the keys can be seen in the right light, and Merlin smiles at the thought of one of the former royals learning to play on this piano.

A world he’ll never belong to.

He presses his fingers to the keys, slowly reading the music and testing out the tune. He loses himself in the melody, the stop-start of learning, the way the sound is swallowed up even in the huge room.

He doesn’t notice when the light begins to fade from the windows, or when his stomach growls. He doesn’t see a smiling Arthur standing at the door, the prince having wordlessly forgiven his best friend as he’d heard the music floating through the palace.

*

Arthur is twelve when he is told that Merlin can’t sleep upstairs anymore.

“This is _so_ unfair,” Arthur says, only just refraining from stamping his foot, because he knew it wouldn’t be very royal of him. “Merlin’s always been upstairs with me. Why can’t he stay up there anymore?”

Ygraine looks tired as she sits with her hands folded in her lap. Uther is pacing across the room behind her. “Arthur, I know Merlin is your best friend, but we’re beginning to worry that you spend _too_ much time with him. We’re considering sending you to Eton in September,” he says calmly, as if talking to a baby.

“No. Absolutely not,” Arthur says, folding his arms across his chest and standing his ground. Ygraine sighs, hoping that the Alpha in Morgana doesn’t make her this stubborn when she gets older.

“Arthur,” Ygraine attempts to soothe, “Merlin would go with you, if you really wanted. But you would be able to make other friends, learn about people from different walks of life.”

“Merlin would hate it,” Arthur says matter-of-factly. “He’s always said that boarding schools breed bullying and big egos.”

Ygraine and Uther look at each other, both products of boarding schools themselves. “Arthur, I don’t know what else to suggest,” Ygraine says, her shoulders slumping imperceptibly, but Arthur notices.

“Merlin won’t sleep in my bed anymore, he’ll just stay on the floor in my room. We’ll stay here with the governess. That’d work. We’ll even have different teachers or something... please?”

Ygraine looks to Uther, who simply shrugs his shoulders. “Fine,” she says. “You continue here. But Merlin doesn’t sleep upstairs anymore, at all. You’re both growing boys, you need your privacy, it’s too...” she trails off.

“But _Mum_ \--”

“Arthur!” Uther snaps suddenly, and Arthur shrinks back. “If Merlin were an Omega, then my word we would be bloody forcing him into your bed. But he isn’t, and you’re the crown _Prince_ for God’s sake, you don’t bond with a commoner let alone a _fucking_ Beta.”

Both Ygraine and Arthur stare at Uther with their mouths hanging open, before he turns abruptly on his heel and storms out of the room. The silence hangs over the Queen and her son like a storm cloud.

“Arthur,” she says, reaching a hand out towards him.

He holds his chin high, turns and storms out of the door on the other side of the room. He’d always taken after his father, after all.

*

At the last minute, Arthur is included in plans for a fortnight-long tour to India.

“Why didn’t they tell you earlier?” Merlin asks Arthur one evening, his mother and father busy at an event across London. They sit outside the kitchen, closed for the evening, with brownies that Merlin had stolen for the both of them.

“I think Father’s mad at me. It’s why you’re not allowed to sleep in my room anymore,” Arthur says, nibbling on the corner of his treat.

“It’s not like I’m an Omega or anything,” Merlin mumbles, casting a glance at Arthur. The boy was beginning to grow, both of them were, in fact. Where Arthur was beginning to fill out in the shoulders as most Alphas did (yet another curiosity they’d learned in their biology lessons), Merlin had stayed stick thin, not putting on a single pound no matter how much rubbish he ate.

“Which is why I don’t understand,” Arthur says. “I mean, it’s not like I’m going to fall in love with you or anything.”

“Yeah,” Merlin agrees weakly, barely swallowing his brownie past the lump in his throat. Over the last few months, his feelings towards his best friend had changed. He had always looked to Arthur with an air of respect or admiration, but it’d morphed into something more personal. He’d taken to watching the news reports of the royals’ visits, poring over the photographs published on the internet when he was meant to be doing his homework.

They finish the whole tub of brownies, and when Balinor asks his dejected son the next morning where they went, mere minutes after seeing the royal family leave for Heathrow, he soon lets the missing treats slide.

Merlin fills his days with studying, his levels in English and Maths at their highest in months and well above the national average. He practices the piano more and more, and his mother employs a tutor especially so he can improve. His mood sours further when he discovers that the pictures from the Indian tour are much harder to find than those from British functions, and only he perks up when Gwaine unexpectedly visits one Saturday.

“Gwaine!” Merlin says, wrapping his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “It’s been months! How are you?”

“I’m good,” Gwaine beams. “I started secondary school this week, and Mum had me studying all summer, plus I...”

Gwaine looks sheepish as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve got some friends with school, you know. Not that I don’t like Arthur! It’s just... they’re common as muck, like you and me,” he grins. “Plus, don’t tell Uncle Gaius but I’ve got a girlfriend.”

Merlin’s eyes widen. “What?! Since when!”

“It happened over the summer. I mean, all we do is hold hands and she kissed me on the cheek, but Sophia, she’s an Alpha from a couple of years above, she’s beautiful Merlin,” he says, eyes glazing over.

“I don’t really know that many girls, to be honest,” Merlin says. “Except Morgana, but she’s like a sister, really.”

“And Arthur’s like a brother?” Gwaine asks, but Merlin can hear some kind of malice in his voice. His brow furrows at the message behind his words. “You look at Arthur like I look at Sophia.”

Merlin blushes, looking down at his hands. “I... I think I like Arthur, maybe. I don’t know. I’ve missed him so much, these last two weeks. I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“Do you think about Will like that?” Gwaine asks, voice gentle now.

Merlin blinks. He hasn’t seen his brother for nearly a year now, the last time having been Christmas. “He’s, like...” Merlin does the maths. “He’s twenty-one, now. He’s at university. It’s completely different.”

“Yeah, and Arthur’s going to be the King of England someday. Unless you’re an Omega, you’ve got no chance with him, Merlin,” Gwaine says, putting a hand on Merlin’s arm. Merlin sighs.

“And even then, he meets lots of interesting new people and pretty princesses every day,” Merlin says quietly. “And I’m just the son of the chef and the secretary. Big whoop,” he says dejectedly.

“Hey, come on now,” Gwaine says, nudging Merlin’s shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be a lifelong thing you know... even if that’s what you want,” he adds hastily when he sees Merlin open his mouth. “You could always be his first kiss, after all.”

Merlin’s stomach flips at the sound of that. He doesn’t think of Arthur of House Pendragon, but simply his Arthur, the boy who once hid under his bed because a film was too scary for him to cope with, the boy who carried him inside from the gardens when he’d cut his knee, the boy who’d listened to him cry when his Grandpa had died just last year.

He wants to be Arthur’s only kiss, really, but he supposes he’ll settle for first.

*

Summer is rapidly fading into autumn when Arthur returns from the tour, slightly sunburnt and sullen, and autumn rolls into winter in time for the prince’s thirteenth birthday. Their days had been full of lessons with the governess, and outside of lessons, they’ve barely had a chance to speak to each other.

Now, Merlin sits at the dinner table across from Morgana, with Arthur to his left. His blazer feels uncomfortable and he’s sure he’s forgotten which fork to use at which course. This is the first time he’s ever been invited to dine with the royal family exclusively. Each of the three children has a very small glass of wine with their meal, and Merlin tries not to wrinkle his nose with each sip.

“Merlin,” Ygraine begins, and Merlin nearly drops his spoon back into his soup. “How is school coming along?”

Merlin bites down his nerves. “Really well, thank you,” he replies politely. “The governess says I’m very strong in English, and is giving me new books to read each week. My music tutor says I should be ready to take my grade three piano exam in the New Year.”

“That’s excellent to hear,” Uther says fondly, and Merlin smiles, blushing at the praise. “If only Arthur would take up an instrument.”

Arthur sighs loudly. “I don’t want to play music. I want to play sport.”

Ygraine purses her lips. “I suppose we could start you off horse riding. It’s time you started, and we could get you onto a polo team as well. Morgana could join you in lessons.”

Morgana grins from across the table. “Thank you, Mama.” Even though she’s a good few years younger than Arthur, she still looks every bit the princess with her long black hair elegantly curled and a smug smile on her lips.

“What are you doing for Christmas this year, Merlin?” Uther asks, as the soup bowls are cleared and roast beef is laid in its place.

“Me and Mum are going to the cottage we still have up in Caernarfon, my _Nain_ will be there too, as well as my older brother Will,” Merlin says carefully. “Dad will be with you in Sandringham.”

“You never told me,” Arthur says sharply, stabbing his fork into a potato with more force than necessary.

“Mind your manners, Arthur,” Uther says in a measured tone.

“Merlin’s not allowed to spend Christmas anywhere else,” he mutters to his plate, before he turns to his friend. “We _always_ spend Christmas together. You can’t just go and...”

“ _Nain_ is really ill,” Merlin says quietly. “We’re not sure if she’ll make it to next Christmas.”

If Merlin thought the start of the dinner had been awkward, it was nothing in comparison to the slow-motion car crash that followed his admission. Both of Arthur’s parents attempt to engage him in other, more trivial conversations but the damage has been done. When the three children are allowed down from the table, Morgana runs off to her bedroom and Merlin finds himself apologising to Arthur.

“I was going to tell you,” Merlin whines, but Arthur continues walking through darkened sitting rooms, the stubborn Alpha refusing to give Merlin the time of day. “I _meant_ to tell you, because we could’ve organised-- well, we still _can_ organise something for when I’m back in January.”

“How long are you away for?” The question is asked in a cold tone.

“Two weeks? Maybe? Three even?” Merlin replies, scared of Arthur’s reaction.

The one reaction he didn’t expect, however, is for Arthur to lead him into a small, secluded study.

Arthur flicks on the desk lamp, dust motes swirling in the shaft of light it casts. Merlin’s brow furrows as he wants to ask a question, but he snaps his mouth shut as Arthur turns towards him with an unreadable expression.

“I want to ask you something,” Arthur says in a familiar tone of voice. It’s the one that landed him in hospital a few years ago after he’d fallen out of a tree at the bottom of the garden, and the one that’d led to them both being told off after opening the doors to the balcony overlooking the Victoria memorial and the surprised crowds below.

Now, though, Arthur leans against the desk. “Do you ever wonder why we’re here?”

Merlin blinks. He’s sure that Arthur had only been allowed one glass of wine, just like him. “Come again?”

“All of this,” Arthur says, waving at the bookshelves around them. Merlin belatedly realises they’re stood in a library; not the large one he’s been spending more and more time in, but one full of dusty, huge folios. “What does it mean? Why am I royal and you’re not?”

“You’re drunk,” Merlin laughs. “And because of your family tree.”

Arthur looks away, a dark look in his eyes.

Merlin continues. “It’s fascinating, you know. Did you know that your grandfather captained a ship in the Royal Navy? And, and, they had a dog called Bessie which they weren’t meant to have, but they kept anyway?” Merlin creeps towards Arthur as he rambles, excited.

Arthur smiles. “I didn’t know that.”

Looking around at the shelves, Merlin sighs. “I love books. There’s so much to learn.”

“Are you really going to be a historian?” Arthur asks. This time, there’s no malice in his voice.

“Maybe,” Merlin smiles. “Wars, battles, royals… they’re all so exciting, aren’t they?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Arthur says, voice thick with sarcasm, and Merlin punches him on the arm, any lingering upset over Christmas plans forgiven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love updating this for you. We're coming up to some of my favourite chapters - oh who am I kidding, they're all my favourite chapters! I'd love a comment to let me know if you're enjoying it so far! <3


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin is thirteen when he discovers pornography.

Or, as it is more widely known, the coverage of the Miami Swimwear Fashion Week on some obscure Sky channel at midnight.

Curled up on the sofa in a blanket, Merlin lazily flicks through channel after channel, bored out of his mind. His father is away on a course about pastry (or something or the other, Merlin hadn’t been too interested), and his mother is accompanying the Queen on an overnight stay in the Scottish Highlands. Arthur had been sent to bed by his father, meaning that Merlin had resorted to bad television, unable to sleep after eating a month’s worth of sweets with Arthur.

His sugar rush finds him watching skinny women in bikinis, strutting along a catwalk as a voiceover drones on and on about _bikini bridges_ and _halternecks_ and other girl talk he doesn’t understand. His tired eyes trace the curves of each model, some of them slightly bigger than the others but all with lean legs and pert bums.

Merlin yawns.

The shot changes to a different runway, however this time it’s the men in skimpy swimwear that makes him lean forward in his seat. Their bodies are oiled and for the most part tanned, glistening abs pulled taut as they walk towards the camera with solemn expressions. Merlin bites his lip as he finds his attention drawn to not the swimwear they’re modelling, but the promising bulges underneath each article of clothing.

The swimwear fashion week was only a diving board into something that nearly became an obsession.

He found himself watching wrestling channels, just for a glimpse of flesh, although he was soon put off by the veins popping out of their ripped arms and guys who resembled the Hulk more than a normal human being. He took an interest in watching diving and swimming competitions on the television (and subsequently wrote himself off going to a pool for a good six months, for fear of popping a boner in public). Merlin, on the laptop he was given for his thirteenth birthday, successfully guessed the password his parents had installed on the internet filter and hit a goldmine. By accident.

Late one evening, locked away in his bedroom, he’d summoned enough courage to type “naked men” into Google.

It all went downhill from there.

Five months after that first evening spent feigning an interest in swimwear fashion, Merlin finds himself standing before his parents in their cosy lounge, tucked away in the servants’ quarters.

“So...” Merlin breathes, ringing his hands together. His mother and father look up at him from the sofa with expectant smiles. “I think I’ve known this for a while, but I wanted to talk to you now because I finally found the courage, and I’ll probably say it wrong or something because--”

“Merlin,” Hunith soothes him, “slow down. It’s alright.”

“You can tell us anything, and we won’t love you any less,” Balinor says, nodding.

“Really?” Merlin wheezes, feeling awfully light-headed. His parents nod in unison. “Right, then. Well. Um. I like boys, I think. Well, I know. I _know_ I like boys. I mean, as like, more than friends?”

The last word is a high-pitched squeak. His mother beckons him close, and Merlin is bundled into her arms. “That’s perfectly fine, darling,” she says, stroking his hair. “Being gay is nothing to be ashamed about.”

Merlin exhales a sigh of relief. “I’m not ashamed. I just... I just don’t know how to tell people.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone, _fy machgen_ ,” Balinor says, clapping his son on the back with a large hand. “You can let people know whenever you want. Just because you’ve worked it out for yourself, doesn’t mean that the whole world needs to know what happens in your head.”

“And you don’t... you don’t want to kick me out or something?”

Hunith laughs, holding her son closer. “You’ve been watching too much _Pobol y Cwm_ , those soaps will rot your brain. Of course we still love you, you silly goose. Come on now, off to bed.”

A few hours later, Merlin is woken from his sleep by low voices outside his door. He strains to hear what’s being said, but the low hum of the television in the background makes it hard to hear.

“...being gay... chances of being an Omega?” he hears his father ask. His mother murmurs something in reply, but her soft voice doesn’t penetrate the heavy wood of his door. “...make a match with him?” his father asks again. “...good enough blood anyway,” his mother says, and Merlin rolls over in his bed, falling asleep once more.

He dreams of Arthur as a King, and when he wakes, he’s better rested than he has been in weeks.

*

Two days later, Merlin finds himself sitting at Arthur’s side, the Prince showing him the latest game he’s been bought for his Xbox. Merlin has watched him fumble through a level of the game - something to do with portals or robots or something - until Arthur throws his controller down in a huff.

“Did you know Gwaine dumped his girlfriend?” Arthur says eventually, after shoving the controller into Merlin’s hands and demanding that he completes the level for him.

“Really?” Merlin asks, not taking his eyes off the screen and a now angry robot swinging wildly in front of him.

“Or she dumped him, perhaps, the line was bad when he rang,” Arthur says, turning his nose up a little. “He says that apparently one of the older boys asked him to the cinema.”

“On a date?” Merlin asks, turning away from the screen as his character falls to her death. Arthur nods at him. “Wait, so Gwaine’s gay?!” Merlin asks in a high-pitched voice, not quite believing his ears.

“Well, he likes girls too, so no, Merlin,” Arthur admonishes, before flashing him a brilliant grin. “This cinema boy is an Alpha as well. Gwaine keeps bloody attracting them, doesn’t he?”

“And you’re... you’re okay with him? Being with guys?” Merlin asks, sucking in a deep breath. His character on screen has respawned but he doesn’t bother starting the level again. The moment is perfect, as long as Arthur says yes.

“Of course, you git. He’s my friend, he can like whoever he wants,” Arthur says proudly, a smile on his lips.

“Good,” Merlin says, his voice betraying his nerves. “Because I do, too. Like boys, I mean,” he says. When Arthur doesn’t reply, Merlin adds: “but not girls, though. They smell.”

The smile Arthur gives him is one of his most brilliant, another of those unreserved smiles that hide nothing at all. Merlin ducks his head and blushes in what any adult would brand as submission to an Alpha, but what Merlin decides is simple embarrassment, that his friend could be so happy for him.

“Come on,” Arthur says, snatching the controller back in his usual fashion. “Let’s play Minecraft instead. I’ll show you the Buckingham Palace that someone built, and then we can re-do it properly.”

Merlin breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that absolutely nothing has changed.

*

Arthur is fifteen when he knows he’s doomed.

The first indicator should’ve been the copious amounts of wine on the table when they sat down for dinner. A distant cousin on his father’s side had gotten married, and so here he was sat, at a table where most of its occupants were members of the Dutch monarchy, celebrating the wedding of a relative he hadn’t ever met until three hours ago.

Merlin’s father had cooked up the banquet that was now being served at Buckingham (“ _but Mother, they don’t even_ live _here, why do we have to feast them when they live in bloody Amsterdam?_ ”), which resulted in Merlin being sat on Arthur’s right-hand side, the only other British occupant at his table. The Dutch man to his left, a Duke of some sorts, kept topping up both of their glasses with a wide grin on his face, and they both lost count of how many they’d had well before the dessert plates were cleared. Merlin had been engaging the guests on his side of the table with ease, even as they all become steadily drunker and the Dutch began to forget how to speak English (or, in some cases, their English improved as their tongues loosened). Arthur looked on in shock as Merlin even spoke some Dutch with them; when later confronted, Merlin grinned shyly and said he’d learnt a few words in the languages of each monarchy of the world, _just in case_.

“God, I hope there’s not speeches,” Merlin mutters in Arthur’s ear, warm breath tumbling over the skin there. They’re both wearing dinner jackets, Merlin’s not as quite well-fitting as Arthur’s Armani, and it’s very warm in the banquet hall. Arthur wishes for a moment he were old enough to excuse himself to smoke, or that it wasn’t so very frowned upon by his parents.

“I could really do for some fresh air,” Arthur whispers, turning and catching the eye of his assistant behind him, having finally been allowed to graduate from the clutches of his nanny for just one evening. “How much longer before we can get down from the table?”

“Your mother will make what I am told is a short but sweet speech, Your Highness, then you’ll be free,” the woman smiles, before stepping back out of the way once more. Merlin groans under his breath, before the Duke urges them both to finish their glasses, in time for the toast to the happy couple. With a secret eye roll to Merlin, Arthur does just that, not sure if it’s the wine or Merlin’s answering grin that makes warmth blossom across his chest.

A couple of excruciatingly long minutes pass before the guests are finally allowed to stand. They move through to an adjacent ballroom, champagne placed in their hands without a single look at their wide eyes or flushed faces. The newlyweds take the first dance, some slow ballad, and Merlin mutters in Arthur’s ear that at least they didn’t choose that ‘wretched’ song from Dirty Dancing. It isn’t long before Arthur is requested to dance with the Princess of Orange, the next in line to the Dutch throne.

Arthur has to admit to himself that she’s pretty, with long blonde hair elegantly swept up into a twist, and a ballgown that puts his own attire to shame. “It’s so nice to be in England,” she gushes, bright blue eyes on Arthur’s as they dance with less finesse than Arthur would like to admit to; perhaps he’s drunk a little too much tonight. “I’m happy our houses will be joined through marriage,” she says, leaning in as the song ends, “and maybe that can be the same in our generation, too.”

With a smile, she waves as she disappears into the crowd, Arthur gaping after her. She’s not even an Omega, which is the weirdest thing about the whole affair.

“May I have a dance, Your Highness?”

Arthur laughs as he turns towards the voice, allowing him to leave thoughts of his future matchmaking aside. “It’s so strange hearing you use my title,” he says to Merlin. He lets a hand settle on Merlin’s waist as he grasps the other, both of them fumbling a bit in their less-than-sober states. The orchestra pause briefly before starting to play another waltz, one that Merlin remarks as one of his favourites. Arthur makes a mental note to find out which one it is later.

No one spares them a second glance as they dance amidst all the other royalty; all eyes are on the newlyweds, and the monarchs of each respective country. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur sees other men dancing with each other, and that makes him smile.

Or perhaps it’s the feel of Merlin’s fingers in his grasp.

“I’m boiling,” Arthur whines quietly to Merlin as the song ends. “Care for a bit of fresh air?”

“But of course, _Your Highness_ ,” Merlin replies, laying it on thick as he allows Arthur to escort him out onto one of the balconies overlooking the garden, opened for the many smokers and out of the public eye. The one they emerge onto is empty, and Arthur nudges the doors closed behind them. The air is warm; it’s the end of May, and the sun has only just set over the horizon.

“You know,” Merlin starts, bracing his hands against the stone balustrade and leaning forwards towards the darkened grounds. “I’ve always loved how we’re right in the middle of the city, here, yet we’re in our own little bubble. You don’t see it like I do, when I go to and from school. It’s mad.”

“Sometimes,” Arthur says as he leans back against the balustrade, shoulder brushing Merlin’s as he faces the other boy, “sometimes I wish I wasn’t a prince. So I could see the world like you do.”

Merlin snorts. “Yeah, because I’m some ordinary fourteen-year-old. I grew up in Buckingham Palace, Arthur. There’s only one other boy my age who’s done that, and that’s you.”

Arthur contemplates his words for a few moments, tilting his head from side to side as he does so. “You’re nearly fifteen, though.”

“ _That’s_ the flaw you pick in my logic?” Merlin laughs, before putting a hand to his head. “I’m too drunk for this. Don’t tell Mum.”

“It was all that ruddy Duke’s fault,” Arthur scoffs, only serving to make Merlin laugh harder. “ _You vant more vine, yah?”_ Arthur mimics, as Merlin all but collapses against the balustrade in giggles.

“He’s _Dutch_ ,” he manages to wheeze. “Not German, you idiot.”

Arthur can’t help but smirk at Merlin as he rights himself again after his laughing fit. “I love your laugh,” he finds himself saying, unable to stop the words. “It’s so unrestrained, and...”

“God, you must be drunk!” Merlin says, weakly punching Arthur’s shoulder. When Arthur only smiles faintly, Merlin stands up a little straighter. “Arthur...”

Arthur stands up from where he leans, turning so he forces Merlin to lean back against the balustrade. He steps between his legs, Merlin’s quiet gasp audible even over the noise of the celebrations inside. “I mean it,” he murmurs. “I love your laugh. I think about your smile when I fall asleep, your eyes...”

“Arthur,” Merlin sighs again as a breathy moan, giving in as Arthur closes the gap and presses the slightest of kisses to the corner of his mouth. “You’re a Prince, you’re an Alpha, we shouldn’t--”

“But you want to, don’t you?” Arthur asks in that low, measured tone. Merlin’s eyes flutter closed.

“Of course I want to,” Merlin whispers. “I always have.”

Arthur claims Merlin’s lips in a kiss, both boys’ first ever. Merlin shudders as he grips the lapels of Arthur’s expensive suit for balance, a small part of his mind painfully aware of the fifty-foot drop onto the lawn below him, and he’s quite concerned his legs will give out. Arthur runs a hand through Merlin’s hair as their mouths open to each other’s tongues, desperate to explore virgin territory that tastes a lot like red wine.

Arthur’s hands are everywhere at once in his drunken haze; one moment they’re in Merlin’s hair, then they’re on his waist again, one is on his chest with the fingers creeping between the buttons of his shirt to touch the pale skin underneath. Merlin moans beneath him, and Arthur swallows down the sound with his hungry mouth.

“Merlin?”

Arthur freezes in place, shielding Merlin from the inquiring voice behind them. Slowly, he releases Merlin’s bottom lip, before hiding his burning face in the crook of his friend’s neck.

“Dad,” Merlin croaks, and Arthur breathes a slight sigh of relief. It could’ve been much, _much_ worse.

Arthur stands up straight, turning round so Balinor can see the man who was having his wicked way with his son. Those blue eyes widen in recognition and shock, before he nods slightly to himself. “I’ve finished my shift, so I was just... checking up on Merlin...” he manages to say, eyes darting between the pair of them.

“Please don’t tell my father,” Arthur begs, unable to believe that he’s actually _asking_ a Beta to do something, but as Merlin does up a few of the shirt buttons Arthur managed to pop, he realises he doesn’t have any other options. His chest is tight with anxiety.

Balinor looks to Merlin, who nods, albeit as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “Go back inside, son,” he says, Merlin pushing off the balcony and fleeing back through the French doors. Balinor steps forward towards Arthur, and the boy wonders if he’s about to receive the uppercut he probably deserves.

“When I opened the door, to see Merlin there, underneath some man...” Balinor begins, before looking aside and running a hand through his hair. _So that’s where Merlin gets that from_. “I’m just glad it was you, Arthur, and not one of those other...” He leaves the rest unsaid. “For that, the least I can do is not tell. But perhaps it would be wise to not choose such a public place next time, Your Highness,” Balinor says, managing a smile.

Relief crashing over him, Arthur surprises them both by throwing his arms around Balinor and squeezing him into a hug, a lungful of air escaping the chef at the contact. He pats Arthur’s back once or twice, unsure of the protocol in this situation, before he pulls away. “Thank you, Balinor,” he says, before darting inside the ballroom once more, trying to tweak his bow tie back into place as he goes.

Merlin has been swallowed up in the crowd, but Arthur soon spots Morgana, who is waving her arms at him in a most unroyal fashion. Feeling much more sober now after his run-in with Merlin’s father, he gives her a beaming smile as she crosses the room towards him.

“Arthur!” she squeals, her brother adjusting her dress where her strap has fallen down her shoulder slightly. “Will you dance with me?”

“Of course,” he says, unable to deny those puppy dog eyes. She’s nearly ten now, and Arthur has no doubts that she’ll be fighting off suitors left, right, and centre when she’s old enough to be matched and paired off by their parents. At least, Arthur thinks, he’ll be able to have a say in who is good enough for his little sister.

He only wishes his parents will be just as careful with himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot kicks OFF in this one so you can have it a day earlier than usual <3

Merlin grumbles his way into consciousness the morning after the Dutch wedding. He licks his lips, rolling over to find a pint glass of water on his bedside table, half-empty. Thanking his former self, he drinks thirstily.

Merlin performs a mental examination of his body. His stomach growls, and he needs to piss. Everything else can wait.

After relieving himself, Merlin pads into the kitchen of their home for the last ten-odd years. His father is snoring in his bedroom, having worked flat-out yesterday preparing the feast, and the door remains shut; his mother must be in there too.

The fridge is home to many Tupperware boxes full of leftovers, as any good chef’s fridge should be. Merlin leaves these alone and pulls out the milk to make himself a cup of tea and a bowl of cereal, perhaps not in that order.

As he does so, he fumbles in the pocket of his pyjama bottoms for his phone.

> _Are you up? Need to talk x_

He sends the message before he realises he’s added a kiss, cursing to himself. It’s the kiss with Arthur that he needs to talk about, ironically. He doesn’t know what it meant, if it meant anything at all.

Sitting on the sofa, cereal bowl now empty and a mug of tea in his hands, Merlin checks himself again as he waits for the reply from Arthur. His head feels a little fuzzy from the wine, but it’s nothing that a nap later won’t fix. There’s an odd tightness in his chest, though. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, but it doesn’t seem to shift. A sip of tea doesn’t seem to move it, either.

“Enjoy the party last night, _cariad_?” Hunith hums as she enters the lounge from her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She switches to Welsh, clutching her dressing gown around her body. “Your dad’s still asleep. Absolutely knackered.”

Merlin sighs deeply, and Hunith laughs.

“You can’t be that hungover. Oh, don’t look at me like that, I know that you’ve gotten a taste for wine. Will would call you posh, you know.”

Sipping on his tea, Merlin chooses not to respond.

“You need a haircut,” Hunith says as she sits down next to him on the sofa, ruffling his hair; his fringe is nearly in his eyes. She looks at him properly, then. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I...” Merlin splays his long fingers against his chest, where he’s wearing the navy blue t-shirt he’s particularly fond of sleeping in. “My chest feels kind of weird. Like... a bit warm? But also tight.”

Hunith pouts, putting the back of her hand to Merlin’s forehead. “You don’t have a temperature,” she frowns. “I’d say it’s something you’d eaten, but your Dad would be _very_ upset if I did...”

Merlin’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he checks the screen without showing it to his mum.

> _Yeah, come up to my rooms xx_

“I can tell by your face that it’s Arthur who’s text you, silly,” she says lightly, rubbing Merlin’s shoulder as she stands to make a cup of coffee. “And _don’t_ look at me like that,” she repeats with her back to him. “You’re like an open book, Merlin.”

“I need to talk to him,” Merlin mumbles, taking his breakfast things back to the kitchen before diving into his room to get ready.

> _Just showering, then I’ll be up x_

One kiss is enough, he’s still thinking a few minutes later, before groaning internally as the hot water beats down on his head. One kiss isn’t enough. One kiss won’t ever be enough.

He isn’t surprised to find himself hardening in the shower as he recalls the kiss. He remembers Arthur’s fingertips drifting across his skin, stolen snatches of his touch through the buttons of his shirt. He thinks of how Arthur stood between his legs like he belonged there, like Merlin is part of the kingdom he will someday rule. Mostly, as Merlin takes himself in hand and leans his forehead against the foggy tiles, Merlin remembers those devilish lips against his own, cunning and quick and infuriatingly good at kissing.

Merlin shudders as he comes embarrassingly quickly. Scrubbing himself clean, he finishes up in the shower and dresses in appropriate clothes for visiting the rest of the palace.

His hair is curling round his ears as it dries by the time he finally appears above stairs. He makes his way slowly to Arthur’s rooms, most of the corridors eerily quiet considering the number of guests in the palace currently, but a voice that he recognises stops him in his tracks.

“Quite frankly, it’s embarrassing...”

Uther’s angered tone filters through a gap in a doorway to Merlin’s left, leading to Uther’s suite of private offices. Merlin slows to a crawl, pretends to type into his phone, and leans against the wall next to the door.

“No, Geoffrey, it really is. You shouldn’t have men _dancing_ together at these kinds of things.”

Geoffrey is Uther’s Private Secretary. Merlin blushes deeply. Is Uther talking about...?

“A bonded Alpha and Omega, I could deal with, they can’t help their biology. But two betas? Maarten and Luuk just looked _wrong_. It isn’t natural.”

Merlin decides he has heard enough. He pockets his phone again and strides towards Arthur’s rooms.

“Enter,” Arthur calls when Merlin’s knuckles rap against the door.

“Very formal of you,” Merlin says as he does so, stepping into Arthur’s private lounge, one that he moved into a year or so ago when he finally outgrew the needs of his childhood bedroom. This new room is full of warm tones, with red curtains and chestnut brown sofas, rather than the garish gold ornaments found everywhere else in the palace. Merlin sits himself down in the chesterfield opposite Arthur, who is still wrapped in his dressing gown.

“One of us has to be, Merlin,” Arthur says, dragging the first syllable of Merlin’s name out as he’s taken to doing recently. Merlin quite likes it; it’s like a private joke that only the two of them are in on.

“Arthur, I...” Merlin starts, finally meeting Arthur’s eyes. They look less blue in the harsh light of day, and Merlin would describe them as stormy, especially with Arthur’s mouth set into a tight line.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Arthur says quickly, looking away from Merlin.

The feeling in Merlin’s chest worsens, and he has to stop his hand from pressing down against his sternum, trying to quell the emotion rising in him. “I liked it,” Merlin says instead, trying to keep the whine out of his voice.

“Yes, well, that’s because you’re gay,” Arthur snaps. He stands and folds his arms across his chest.

“What?” Merlin stands too and steps towards Arthur. Thanks to a recent growth spurt, they now stand at the same height, even though Arthur is nearly twice as broad as him. “Right. And you’re not, after that last night?”

Arthur barks out a laugh. He turns his back on Merlin and walks towards one of the windows. “Of course I’m not gay. The future _king_ can’t be gay, can he?”

The poison in his voice reminds Merlin of what he had just heard outside Uther’s offices. “You sound a lot like your father,” he says before thinking it through properly, because his chest feels like it’s splitting open and this isn’t like Arthur at all.

Arthur turns around, an eyebrow raised. “Really, Merlin,” he says. He doesn’t drag the word this time. “You think you know my father better than I do? You think I’m not aware of his views of the world?”

“No, I--”

“The kiss was a mistake, and it can’t happen again.” Arthur’s tone loses its anger but remains cold. “I can’t have you, Merlin, can’t you see? You’re not an Omega.”

Merlin searches Arthur’s face, trying to see if the words hurt the prince as much as they hurt him. Arthur’s jaw remains set, a muscle twitching in the corner of it.

“It’s not... because I’m a boy? A... a man?” Merlin ventures.

“Merlin, please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Merlin steps backwards and sits down heavily on the sofa once more. Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, he takes a shuddering breath. “Fine, alright,” he says quietly. “You can’t be gay, and you can’t _have_ me, because I’m not an Omega... but I can’t even feel this way for you? Can’t kiss you like that again?” Merlin hates how his voice shakes, how thick it sounds. He lets his hands drop to his sides.

Arthur unfolds his arms, if only to pinch the bridge of his nose. How he still looks so regal, in his plush red dressing gown and slippers, Merlin will never understand. “It would be best, perhaps, if you found someone else, Merlin.”

Merlin can hear white noise. The room fades away to nothing but Arthur, his lips continuing to move but Merlin not hearing the words. “I see,” drops from Merlin’s own lips at some point, but he doesn’t know if Arthur hears. He stands on shaking legs, his treacherous mind reminding him of how his legs shook the night before, of how Arthur kissed him, of how Arthur sent him two kisses in the text this morning before this car crash of a conversation.

Merlin might’ve slammed the door behind him, he’s not sure. What he is sure of is that Arthur does not follow him back down the long hallways to his own room.

Arthur sends him a hollow ‘Happy Birthday’ text on the 24th of June.

This time, there’s no kisses.

*

Merlin is fifteen and a few days when his life changes forever.

He’d been feeling unwell for the majority of the afternoon, his mother muttering about running around too much in the late June heat. Instead, he’d curled up in the shade with an arm thrown over his cramping stomach, wondering if it was the canapés left over from a dinner party earlier in the week that had thrown him off kilter. Balinor would be furious if that was the case.

Arthur parades around the lawn with a croquet mallet in his hand, his mother and father chatting in the distance. Merlin pretends not to notice the worried glances Arthur shoots him every few minutes over his sunglasses. They have started speaking to each other again, tentatively, but still give a wide berth to any topics that might involve feelings or talking about the doomed kiss.

As the hours wear on, Merlin only feels worse and worse. “I’m going to bed,” he tells Arthur as they all retire to the palace. Uther gives Merlin a disapproving look, before he turns his nose up and strides away. “I really don’t feel too good.”

“Well, it’s the weekend now, at least you can recover in time for your lessons on Monday,” Arthur smiles, touching a hand to the small of Merlin’s back. “Do you need me to bring you anything?”

Merlin swallows, frowning at Arthur slightly; this is different from the aloofness of the previous weeks. Arthur is leaning towards him, his face unreadable. Something churns in Merlin’s gut, and he forces himself to turn away. “I’ll text you,” he mutters weakly. He all but crawls back to the servants’ quarters, guzzles a pint of water, and falls into his bed, feeling the beginnings of a fever.

When he wakes from a sleep full of nightmarish dreams, he’s covered in sweat and panting. The pain has spread from his stomach downwards, and he feels as if someone is crushing the base of his spine. He licks his dry lips, desperate for water, but as he shifts between the bedsheets his stomach drops as he feels something.

He peels back the sweat-soaked bed cover, hands shaking. Merlin struggles to see in the light, but he can definitely feel the slick sensation between his thighs, and his eyes just make out the outline of his hard cock in his boxers.

“No,” he half-whispers, half-sobs. “No.”

He stands on shaking legs, taking three goes with the doorknob to his room before he makes it out. He crosses the lounge to where his parents sleep in their bedroom, knocking tentatively before he enters. “ _Mami_ ,” he chokes, already feeling the tears coursing down his cheeks.

Hunith sits upright in bed immediately. “ _Cariad_ ,” she says, before standing and crossing the room to Merlin. “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are--”

Her face blanches as her son curls up on himself, arms clutching his stomach. “It _hurts_ , _mami_.”

“Darling,” she says soothingly, running a hand through his damp hair before turning to her husband. “Balinor,” she snaps, shoving his shoulder. Her husband groans in his sleep. “Wake up. It’s happened.”

Balinor sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes before recognition settles on his face. “Merlin?” he asks, before swinging his legs out of bed. Hunith pushes her son into the lounge and towards the small kitchenette, opening a cupboard and pulling down a pack of pills.

“Take these,” she says, popping out two onto the counter, before filling up a glass of water. “Now, Merlin.”

“What’s happening, _mami_?” Merlin asks. His fingers shake as he puts the pills into his mouth.

“ _Cymraeg, cariad_ ,” Hunith soothes. She continues in Welsh. “No English for now. Don’t want to risk being overheard.”

“We need to get him out of here,” Balinor responds from behind them, Merlin gulping down the tablets with water, thirsty like never before. “If they realise there’s an Omega in the palace...”

“I _know_ , Balinor,” Hunith hisses, before turning back to her son. “Good boy. Go put on some clothes. Don’t worry about showering or anything, just make sure you’re ready in about five minutes.”

Merlin shuffles off towards his bedroom, the pain already beginning to subside a bit. His mood sours further as he considers his father’s words, and their meaning. He was an Omega, then, if the slick trickling down the backs of his thighs was anything to go by. He pulls on a pair of tracksuit bottoms, something he’s only ever allowed to wear in the servants’ quarters. Smiling to himself, he predicts Arthur’s reaction to such clothing.

Suddenly, he imagines Arthur looming over him, peeling them off to reveal his skin and his hard--

Merlin’s knees nearly buckle with want, and he catches himself by bracing a hand against the wall. He’s wanted Arthur before, but the absolute _need_ that trembles through his body now is all-consuming. With laboured breaths, he pulls a t-shirt on, and then a hoodie on top of it, even though his body feels as if it’s on fire.

He wonders if he’ll be allowed near Arthur now that he’s an Omega. Merlin breathes deeply, forcing himself to not cry again, before he goes out into the lounge once more.

Hunith is fully dressed, pulling a coat on over her t-shirt. “Put your shoes on, Merlin,” she says as Balinor bustles past him into his bedroom with a half-packed suitcase. “We’re going back to Wales for a while,” she explains as she pulls on her own shoes, the sounds of Balinor tearing through Merlin’s wardrobe punctuating the silence. “I’ll explain everything once we’re in the car.”

Merlin nods dumbly, finding himself incapable of speech. Shoes on, he stands uncertainly in the middle of the room, trembling. “Get a bottle of water from the fridge,” Hunith says, sounding entirely more Alpha than she should as a Beta. “Actually, make that three or four. We’re not stopping for at least two hours.”

Balinor puts the suitcase by the door of their little flat, before going to a cupboard and pulling a load of blankets down. Once Merlin’s put the bottles of water in his mother’s rucksack, Balinor approaches him. “ _Fy machgen_ , I...”

“We’ll call you in the morning, when we get there,” Hunith says, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “C’mon, Merlin. Get these over your head. We need to mask your scent as much as we can.”

“My... scent?”

“Well, we can’t smell it, but I bet Uther and Arthur would be able to, if they’re awake. I’m not chancing that,” Hunith says, taking the suitcase and rucksack as Merlin pulls the blanket tight around his face. “And if they do smell it, hopefully they won’t see that it’s you, if someone’s looking. Let’s go.”

Merlin follows her out of the flat and out of the servants’ quarters through the nearest fire exit. They jog across the mainly dark car park to their car, mostly unused nowadays. She bundles a panting Merlin into the back seat, with all his blankets and the rucksack, throwing the suitcase in the boot before throwing herself into the driver’s seat.

She only relaxes as they speed onto the motorway, the glow of London’s streetlights beginning to fade behind them.

“Mum,” Merlin croaks from the back seat, already at the tail end of the first bottle of water. “Why...”

Hunith bites her lip in the rear-view mirror before she sighs. “I don’t know, Merlin,” she says, and Merlin can tell she’s being honest, even through his brain fog. “I know there’s Omegas in my family, somewhere, but... it must’ve been the combination of me and Balinor, and maybe the fact that Will wasn’t Omega. I’m sorry.”

_Don’t be_ , Merlin thinks but doesn’t say.

“We can get you on heat suppressors. That’s what you’ve taken, now, just so we can get you home... we stocked up, just in case. We planned it out, just because... because the rules are tight, back there at the palace. We know how close you are to Arthur, maybe it should’ve been an indicator...” she pauses as she weaves through a tight lane of roadworks, before they clear up again a few minutes later. “If you go on suppressors, I reckon you can stay around Arthur. Otherwise, you’ll have to leave. _We’ll_ have to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave Arthur,” Merlin says quietly, barely above the noise of the road. Thinking about Arthur makes him break out into a sweat again. Hunith hums in agreement.

“I’ll ring in the morning, say that we had a family emergency. Which isn’t untrue,” she says, and Merlin smiles. As if she can read Merlin’s mind, Hunith adds, “you can’t tell Arthur about this, darling.”

“I know,” Merlin says, and the words eat at him, clawing at his chest. He’s never kept secrets from Arthur.

“Did you...” Hunith starts, before she then sighs. “Did anything happen at that wedding last month?”

Merlin thinks about the kiss and groans, half in want and half in shame. “I kissed him, _mami_ ,” he whines, screwing his eyes shut. “Do you think that caused this?”

Hunith hums. “Well, it was clearly going to happen sooner or later, if you’re an Omega, but...” She sighs again. “I don’t know. I wish I knew more, to help you. I just... I just never had to know. I’m sorry,” she says again.

Merlin dozes for a bit while the pain is kept at bay. He dreams of Arthur claiming him and knotting him (admittedly, not the first time he’d dreamt of it), and wakes himself up with his own loud whining. “Take another two tablets,” Hunith says, as she drives towards the still-dark sky, the sun rising behind them. “It’ll tide you over until we get to the cottage, but then I can’t give you anything else, baby. You need to let your body go through this, at least once.”

Merlin whines, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout. A thought occurs to him. “Our teacher once said though, that if you have a heat when you’re unbonded, it’s not meant to be too bad.”

Hunith keeps a poker face. “Maybe it just depends on different people,” she says, before she turns the radio on softly.

The next time Merlin wakes, it’s as the car comes to a stop. “We’re at a services,” Hunith says, turning to look back at Merlin. “I’ll go inside and get us some breakfast, but you’re staying here, and I’m locking the doors.”

Merlin nods. He dreads to think of how he would smell to a nearby Alpha right now. As the car beeps with the locking system, and his mother disappears inside the building, he thinks about what an Alpha would do to him, what Arthur would do to him, if they found him now. He would soothe Merlin with his words, before pressing him down into the back seat of the car and fucking him until he begged for his knot--

His mother slams the car door as she gets back in. “I got you a bacon sandwich. Eat up.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care.”

Merlin glares at the back of her headrest for the next couple of miles, cock painfully hard under the blankets, before he relents and eats the sandwich bit by bit.

Finally, as the latest round of tablets begin to wear off, they pull up to the little cottage tucked away in the countryside around Caernarfon. Hunith helps guide Merlin out of the car, the lanky teenager not resisting as she practically drags him through to the bedroom he normally uses, the one he used to sleep in as a baby before they moved to London. “Strip off, have a shower if you want, but it probably won’t help. I’m going to nip up into town for some bits and bobs, but I’ll lock the door, alright?”

Merlin is naked by the time he hears the engine start again. His erection, entirely neglected until now, throbs in his hand as he touches himself. He thinks about Arthur, closes his eyes, and wishes that Arthur were here to fill him, to press his knot inside him until he can’t breathe--

He comes all over his stomach in record time, but the burning need isn’t sated and the cramps have returned, although nowhere near as badly as before. His chest aches like it did after he had kissed Arthur for the first time, the only time. The overwhelming desire to be _filled_ swamps him again, and he finds himself rolling onto his front, pushing his arse high into the air towards the Alpha he wished was there to take care of him.

“Merlin?”

Merlin falls off the bed, dragging the blankets down over him. He’s sure his wide eyes, red cheeks, and the smell of sex in the air would be enough of a giveaway for his mother, if she had dared to put her head around the door. “I didn’t...” She sighs from the hallway. “I went through the Omega part of the supermarket, picked up as much as I could,” she says, dumping two carrier bags on the floor by the door. “Just shout if you’re hungry, or, or anything. I’ll be in the other room, and I’ll let you know if I leave at all, but other than that, just... just hang in there, baby.”

She shuts the door behind her, and Merlin crawls across the carpet to the carrier bags. He’s mortified to find that one of them is completely full of an assortment of dildos, some knotted and some not, whereas the other contains a couple of books ( _How to Cope with Your First Heat_ ) along with some wet wipes, tissues, and slick pads.

He doesn’t think twice about choosing one of the toys and crawling back up onto the bed with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the scene with Merlin finding out his identity here so much! Hope you're enjoying so far! Just a reminder than my regular schedule is every 2 weeks on a Friday evening, but you got this one a day early because I love my little baby Merlin so much haha. Thanks for reading <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, it's Update Friday! We get to see the fallout of Merlin's new classification :-)

Arthur dismounts his pony in one swift movement, handing the reins to an awaiting groom.

“Val, my phone, please,” Arthur demands politely of his security detail, light today as the polo club is members only, and there’s hardly ever anyone around on training days.

Val fishes the Prince’s phone out of his jacket pocket and hands it to Arthur, face grim. Arthur glances at the screen. _No New Notifications_ mocks him, and he rams the phone into the pocket of his tight polo trousers.

“You look like somebody just died,” a voice chirps from behind him, an elbow softly connecting with his ribs. “Arthur?”

When he turns around, Gwen’s smile slips from her face. Her dark, tight curls are pulled back in a ponytail, slicked down with sweat after wearing her helmet all morning. She’s in a matching polo strip, her stick tucked under her arm. “Are you okay?”

“I need some advice, I think,” Arthur murmurs. He starts walking towards the clubhouse and Gwen easily matches his pace as a fellow Alpha. Val trails a respectful twenty metres behind.

“You think? Oh dear, it must be bad,” she mocks lightly. Arthur meets her eyes with a sidelong glance, and she smiles. “Come on Arthur, how long have we known each other now?”

“Too long.”

“You can tell me anything,” she says, ignoring his sardonic remark. “I still remember how you fell off your pony during your first lesson all those years ago, and I haven’t told a soul,” she grins.

“No one except me, repeatedly,” Arthur sighs, but his mood is lifted slightly.

“Well, yes, but that’s because you’re the Prince of Wales and you need taking down a peg or two every now and then.”

Arthur laughs lowly. “When I’m King, I’ll take away your Ladyship, Guinevere, and make you live in a garden shed somewhere.”

“Creative,” Gwen snipes with a roll of her eyes. “Original, even. Do you want my advice or not?”

They reach the clubhouse and Arthur stomps up the wooden steps. The summer heat has put a stop to practice for the time being, and Arthur chooses a table in the shade of the veranda. Dropping into a seat, he sighs again. “Fine, yes.”

Gwen grins like a cat who’s got the cream. She’s similar to Morgana in some ways, and Arthur reckons that if Morgana grows up to be as annoying as Gwen, then he’s in trouble. “How can I help?” she asks as she bats her eyelashes, sitting in a chair next to him and setting her stick down.

Arthur nearly immediately regrets his decision but drives on regardless. “I haven’t heard from Merlin in a few days.”

Gwen’s smile grows. “Merlin? The boy who lives with you at the Palace?”

Arthur nods. He drums his fingers on the glass top of the table.

“Have you gone to speak to him?” Gwen starts.

Arthur shakes his head. “He’s not there. His father says he and his mother have gone home to Wales, but he wouldn’t tell me why.”

“Hmmm. Have you tried texting him?” Gwen asks lightly. She pulls her hair out of her hairband to retie it.

“Yes. Twice. He’s not answered, which is unlike him,” Arthur says, before realising that perhaps isn’t quite true, especially in the aftermath of the wedding.

For an Alpha, Gwen reads expressions quite well; Omegas are the ones who do all the emotional stuff. “You sure?”

Arthur shrugs his shoulders. “There was a wedding last month. I might have, er, kissed him, and now he’s not talking to me.”

This all comes out in a rush. Gwen pauses, elbows skywards, in the middle of her efforts to plait her hair. “You _what_?” she squeals, her upper-class English accent betrayed by her delight.

“Can you please not inform the entirety of the polo club, Guinevere?” Arthur says lowly, looking around. Val lingers at the entrance to the clubhouse, subtly encouraging other guests to use the other side of the veranda.

“You kissed Merlin?”

“Yes.”

Gwen abandons her hair in a messy ponytail and slaps Arthur’s forearm lightly, grinning. “Why didn’t you tell me? This is _so_ exciting.”

Arthur rubs his forearm. “Because he’s a Beta and I can’t be with him, that’s why. I didn’t want to make a fuss. It happened and, well, I need to find myself some well-bred Omega girl, don’t I?”

Silence settles uneasily between them; this is well trodden ground. Gwen looks out towards the pitch, the finely trimmed grass simmering under the midday sun. A waiter brings them a pitcher of water and some glasses, and Gwen thanks him quietly.

When he leaves, Gwen is the first to break the silence. “Doesn’t mean you can’t be with him now,” she says. “We’re teenagers after all, Arthur. You don’t have to be grown up just yet, and _yes_ I know how different and _special_ you are, before you start,” she says, shooting daggers at him when he goes to open his mouth.

He closes it again, folding his arms across his chest. He takes the affront and turns it into a distraction. “How’s Mithian?”

Gwen bits her bottom lip to hide her growing smile and sets about pouring them a glass of water each. “She’s good.”

“Really?” Arthur asks, mirth returning to his voice. “You put me through the wringer about Merlin, and then I ask about your _girlfriend_ and that’s all you’ve got?”

Gwen smiles coyly at him over the top of her glass of water. “We’re not officially girlfriends yet,” she says before taking a sip and looking away. Arthur makes a noise of disbelief in his chest, and Gwen looks at him. “We’re not! She’s... ahh... not had her first heat yet. With me, I mean. She’s come of age but hasn’t...”

“You haven’t rutted while she’s in heat,” Arthur supplies.

Nodding, Gwen puts her glass down. “I’m... actually really nervous,” Gwen laughs, a high-pitched giggle. “Isn’t that funny? An Alpha being nervous?”

“Given the circumstances, I wouldn’t say so.” Arthur thinks back to kissing Merlin, and how his stomach had been doing somersaults. His hand moves to his chest, the dull ache buried there that flares each time he thinks about the other boy.

The same ache he had had to fight against when he told Merlin to date someone else.

Gwen’s eyes trace the movement of his hand. “Everything okay?”

Arthur drops his hand suddenly. “What? Yeah, fine.”

“That’s funny,” Gwen says in a quiet voice. “I... I had this weird feeling, after I had slept with Mith for the first time. Like I had been missing something before, but then she’s making me whole. It’ll be weird, after her heat, to see what that feels like.”

Arthur looks at her, eyebrows raised. “Do you think it’s a soul bond?” He whispers it, as if the rare form of magic is forbidden. It might as well be, for how often it occurs.

“I hope I’m that lucky,” Gwen says, starry-eyed. She blinks and refocuses on Arthur. “We’ll see.” She sips from her water again. “What are we doing with your Merlin then?”

“He’s not mine,” Arthur growls.

“Yes, yes, we’ve done that bit. But you’re still worried about him,” Gwen says, and Arthur doesn’t deny it. “Like I said, Arthur. There’s no reason why he can’t be yours for a little bit. Would you take a male Omega in the future?”

Arthur furrows his brow. “They’re too rare in royal families. They wouldn’t be the right pedigree, Father says.” The condensation on his glass makes his fingertips wet. He draws one through it, and it pools onto the table.

“But if you could?”

Arthur watches the trees sway in the distance, on the other side of the polo field. “I don’t think so. Merlin is the only boy I want. I don’t think I’m gay.”

He meets Gwen’s eyes again, and there’s a small smile on her face. “No one’s asking you to label anything,” she says, reaching out to squeeze his hand briefly before withdrawing it. “You just have to do what makes you happy... just, in your case, you better be sure there’s no consequences.”

Arthur sips his water and thinks about it. Merlin is a Beta, and therefore, other than a public scandal, the consequences of seeing him were quite insignificant. The thought makes his chest hurt, despite the ice-cold water he’s drinking.

He thinks about the way Merlin looks at him, when he thinks that Arthur isn’t looking back, those soft smiles, subtle glances, and that quiet laughter that Arthur is so fond of. Wouldn’t it be wrong for Arthur to keep that to himself, knowing that he can’t give Merlin what he wants – himself, entirely, without any reservations?

“I’m sure he’ll text you when he’s ready,” Gwen says softly, pulling Arthur from his reverie. “If I may, _Your Highness_ , I have a ball this evening that I need to be getting ready for,” she says as she stands, the honorific borderline mocked.

Arthur stands too. “My Lady,” he says, glancing around before swiftly grabbing Gwen’s hand and kissing her knuckles noisily.

“Ugh, you’re such a twat,” she giggles, ripping a belly laugh from Arthur. “Call me if you need anything. _Please_ ,” she says, searching his face as they both stand straight again.

“I will,” Arthur says, feeling a little lighter already. “Thank you.”

“I can’t wait to meet Merlin, you know,” Gwen says, stepping backwards and picking up her polo stick. “You must bring him to a match soon. I want him to meet Mith.”

“I will,” Arthur repeats.

As Gwen leaves the veranda, Arthur pulls his phone out again.

_No New Notifications_.

Arthur sends another text, and adds an extra kiss this time.

*

Merlin emerges from his room four days later.

He had spent the majority of the time fucking himself senseless with each of the toys, discarding those that simply didn’t work for him and coveting those that did. When he wasn’t fucking himself, he was sleeping, and when he wasn’t sleeping or snacking lightly, he was hungrily reading all of the information the books on being an Omega had to offer. He feels sheepish, now, rubbing the back of his neck once he’s showered and clothed himself once more, the slick pad feeling quite foreign in his boxers.

His mother is sat in the lounge, large sound-cancelling headphones on her head and her Kindle in her hands as the fading sunlight spills across the floorboards. Merlin has to wave his hand in front of her face to get her attention. “Nice headphones,” he says in greeting.

Hunith grins up at him as she pulls them off her head. “Thought I should treat myself. Barry Manilow deserves the best sound quality money can buy.”

Merlin knows that it’s so she didn’t have to hear her son crying out for the Prince of Wales to knot him hard. But neither of them needed to say that out loud.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” she asks. She last dared to enter his room that morning, to fill up the empty jug of water. It’s the first time she’s seen him clothed since their journey here. “Good enough to stand up for a bit, obviously,” she says, looking him up and down.

“Yeah,” Merlin says, easing himself into an armchair. “I think it’s starting to wane, now... Time is just dragging on. It would be nicer if I had someone to share it with, I guess, y’know?” he asks, itching the back of his neck again. “Like, just someone to talk to, in between the...” He shrugs one shoulder and brushes his fringe from his eyes. “I finished that book, the first heat one.”

“Oh right?” Hunith asks with a smile. “Is it helpful?”

“Yeah, I guess. It says how, like...” Merlin twists his hands in front of him as he tries to explain, but he still feels the blush creep up his cheeks. “Like. Um, how the um, wanting an Alpha kind of fades away, you know? And then the last few days of the heat, you just, uh, you just have the fluids and stuff and yeah.”

Hunith blinks at her son, before smiling softly. “Merlin, come here,” she says, and he eases himself up from his chair, trying not to wince, limbs aching and everything else sore. Hunith takes his hand, holding it between both of hers. “You shouldn’t ever be embarrassed talking to us about this, okay? You can ask me and Balinor anything, we’ll try our absolute hardest to help you.”

Merlin swallows, nodding his head. Hunith kisses his knuckles before she gets up to cross the cottage to the kitchen. Merlin follows.

“Have you thought any more about...” Hunith starts, before twirling a hand in the air as she puts the kettle on. “Your future, what you’ll do? I know I said what me and your father have thought of, but it’s ultimately your decision.”

Merlin bites his lip. “I want to... I want to stay as close to Arthur as possible,” he sighs, closing his eyes and hanging his head a bit as he leans against the island counter, trying to breathe past the tension in his chest. “These past few days, all I’ve been able to think about is him. Even if I can never have him - because I _know_ his parents are going to find him some pretty, foreign, _Omega_ princess - I still want to be close to him, I... I couldn’t leave him. Because if I left the palace, it’d be better for my health to not use suppressors, and then I wouldn’t be able to see him at all.”

Hunith hums, pouring water into her mug. “So you’re willing to risk your health, and your chances of finding a mate--”

“I don’t want anyone other than Arthur,” Merlin snaps, before his bottom lip wobbles and a tear slips down his cheek at the sheer impossibility of it all.

*

The day before they leave to return to London, Merlin visits Omega clinic at the hospital in Caernarfon.

As they sit in the waiting room after their appointment (during which Merlin was prodded like an animal much too often for his liking, male Omegas not a common occurrence in North Wales), his phone vibrates in his pocket. “Arthur text again,” he whispers to his Mum, showing her the screen of the latest texts from Arthur:

> _Hey, Father said you had a family emergency. Everything alright?_
> 
> _Merlin? Your dad said you took your phone... x_
> 
> _Maybe you ran out of battery, which is understandable I guess xx_
> 
> _Does Caernarfon have phone charger shops? Just curious xxxx_
> 
> _When will you be back? xxxxx_

“You should reply to him, poor thing,” his mother coos, and Merlin scowls at her tone. She chuckles, yet her voice turns serious. “Honestly, though. Tell him the story we worked out with your father.”

Merlin nods, furrowing his brow as he begins to type out a text to the contact simply labelled ‘Arthur’:

> _Hey Arthur. Really sorry, yeah we found out Nain passed away Friday night, so we rushed up here, and I haven’t had much signal until now xxx_

The reply from Arthur is instantaneous:

> _Oh, good. I thought I was going to have to dispatch my personal guard to come rescue you from the middle of nowhere xxx_

Merlin laughs at that, before his phone buzzes once more:

> _I mean, it’s not good that your Nana passed away. Quite tragic, actually. I’m sorry for your loss xxxxx_

Merlin bites his lip, hating the feeling of unease creeping through his belly at the thought of lying to Arthur. He realises that this is only the beginning of the web of lies he’ll need to spin to keep both of them together and safe.

His grandmother had actually died a few weeks ago. Merlin had kept his silent grief from Arthur, in the days that followed the wedding when they weren’t speaking, but the prince didn’t need to know that.

He pockets his phone as he’s called to collect his prescription of suppressors for the next six months. Three pills each morning, every day for the rest of his life or the time when circumstances allow him to stop posing as a Beta, whichever comes soonest. He also buys scent-neutralising soap and shampoo from the pharmacy, something he’ll also have to begin using as the suppressors won’t affect his scent. With the pills and toiletries combined, Arthur will never know Merlin’s true classification.

The thought makes him a little bit sad, knowing that they’re compatible biologically but not at all socially. He gathers the items in his arms and heads to the car, his mother wrapping an instinctive arm around his shoulders.

“Come on, _cariad_. Let’s go home.”

Merlin can’t help but smile at that.

*

Arthur impatiently stands at the window, watching the Changing of the Guard far below him. He knows they’re somewhere in the palace, but he has to wait.

“You’re a prince,” his father had told him years ago. “People come to _you_.”

Apparently, it would be _quite_ improper for him to run down to the servants’ quarters, especially now he’s only just shy of sixteen.

Finally, the door opens behind him and he spins around to find Merlin.

He’s gone longer than a week away from Merlin before, sometimes spending nearly a month in one Commonwealth country or another, but this time feels different. He looks at Merlin as if he’s seeing his friend for the first time, but he can’t quite place his finger on _why_.

Merlin’s filled out a little over the last couple of months. He used to be dangerously thin, looking as if he would break at any given opportunity. Now, he has more flesh on his bones and is almost taller than Arthur, yet he doesn’t have the muscle which has helped Arthur begin to fill out in a traditional Alpha body shape. Merlin’s cheekbones are still sharp, but his face has gained a softness somehow, his lips fuller, his eyes brighter and rounder, his hair becoming fluffier by the day.

Arthur grins, before tearing across the room to wrap Merlin up in a hug.

The younger boy tenses in his arms, and Arthur releases him instantly. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to crush you. It’s all the Alpha muscle, Father says,” he rushes to say, the grin fading as he puts a hand on Merlin’s arm. “I’m sorry about your Nana, Merlin, but I’m really glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” Merlin says meekly, a small smile on his lips, and Arthur wraps him into a hug once more, some unknown part of him simply craving the contact.

“I’m sorry about what happened after the wedding, too,” Arthur murmurs into Merlin’s ear. “I shouldn’t have been so... so cruel.”

“It’s okay,” Merlin breathes. “I get it.”

Arthur winces internally at this, but Merlin is still hugging him, and for once his chest aches a little less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I'd love to see a comment about what you think is coming next! These teenage chapters are some of my favourites :) <3


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